The Missing Painting
by Rusty Weasley
Summary: The War is long over and all Narcissa Malfoy wants is a peaceful home, but that is impossible when Draco is constantly drunk and depressed. He's in love with Hermione, but no one can find her since her disappearance from the Wizarding World years ago. The answer to a happy ending is an unauthorized painting of Hermione Granger, its mysterious artist...and magic.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

In which we observe Draco's troubles

Disclaimer: I own nothing here and make no money from writing this story. I'm just having fun with some characters from a really great series of books. Oh, and I wanted to give Narcissa a little more screen time...

It was late, and the sound of laughter drifted down the cold marble hall of Malfoy Manor, seeming out of place in such a dark and empty home. The Manor had seen its share of sadness over the centuries, and didn't seem willing to accept the sound of happiness that tried to permeate the cloud of gloom that surrounded the old headquarters of the Death Eaters. Screams and cries, that was what the Manor was used to, not the sound of two laughing voices, one of them very drunk. House-elves cringed at the sound and looked at each other worriedly as they went about their late night chores. At the far end of the hall, the only other glow of light came from under the bedroom door of the Master and Mistress of the manor.

"Damn it!" Narcissa Malfoy exclaimed as she slammed the book down beside her and looked over her half-moon reading glasses at her husband.

"Darling, is something bothering you?" Lucius purred as he glanced at his wife. She was still a radiant beauty, and Lucius loved her more than life itself. He put his copy of the Daily Prophet aside and rolled over to face his wife, putting his arm seductively across her chest. "Does the sound of our son's happiness distress you? Would you wish him to be miserable and alone after all that we, no _I_, have put him through? Do you wish he had not found love…like his parents did?" He started to kiss her exposed neck and chuckled as he felt her teeth grind together.

Narcissa pinched up the fabric of his sleeve and slowly removed his arm from across her chest. "You know exactly what I mean. Don't try to charm me Lucius, or continue this charade of 'happiness and joy'. Draco is miserable, and we are going to put a stop to it tonight. If you will not take action, I shall."

"What do you propose, dear? A spanking?" Lucius moved his hand down to caress her hip bone.

"You are incorrigible." Narcissa hissed as she threw the covers back and got out of bed. She noticed him leering, and realized that her sheer nightgown left very little to the imagination, especially when the bedside light was behind her. She smiled and chucked a throw pillow at him, put on her fur-collared robe and slammed the door as she left their bedchamber.

As soon as Narcissa left the room, her house-elf, Winky, appeared at her side carrying a charmed candle that lit the entire hallway with a warm, flattering light. "Thank you, Winky" Narcissa said. Whereas in the past, the Malfoys treated their house-elves as lower life forms, now they had come to appreciate them. After the defeat of Voldemort, the confiscation of all property belonging to the Malfoy estate, and the subsequent years of trials and convictions; the Malfoys spent quite a bit of time at the bottom of the heap themselves. As they turned over evidence and testified against other Death Eaters, and had never committed any murders or direct acts against the Ministry, they were eventually released and their household returned. A large portion of their funds remained in the Ministry's vaults, but Lucius' wide range of investments outside of England still remained in their possession and provided enough income to live almost as lavish as they did before the War. The house-elves had all been freed by the Ministry as punishment, and any that remained were ones that had agreed to stay voluntarily, albeit with certain conditions. No torture, and please and thank-you's were tops on the list. The Malfoys had actually come to enjoy putting aside their pure-blood airs inside the privacy of their own home, and the house-elves had responded by treating the Malfoys better than ever before. It was a win-win for all.

"Mistress is going to see Master Draco?" Winky asked, though she did so just to make conversation. The wizened old elf seemed to know _everything_.

"I can't take it any longer; this madness just has to stop."

"If Winky may give some advice?"

Narcissa stopped abruptly and looked down at the elf. In a different time, she would have said something cruel to a wizard that offered her advice on child rearing, much less a servant, but she knew she was unprepared for this and could use help wherever it came from. She artfully raised an eyebrow and said flatly, "Go on."

"Winky believes that the young Master is at the same time thinking that he is in love with her and very sad because of it. If you take her away, he will have nothing left but the sadness."

"Well then, what do you suggest?"

"Bring her here."

"I should just Apparate to her home and ask her to come have tea with us? After all we have put her through, what my sister did to her, _in this house_?" Narcissa was both horrified and incredulous at the thought of asking Hermione Granger to come to Malfoy Manor.

"Winky was thinking that a gift would be a good start." She opened the door to Draco's room and held it as Narcissa entered slowly. The room was in shambles. The bed was covered with newspapers, books, racing brooms, and winter coats. Tumblers and bottles of Firewhisky covered the assorted flat surfaces, and on the floor, resting his head against the foot of his unused bed was Draco.

Drunk and laughing.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

In which Narcissa hatches a plan.

"Hello mother, and hello Winky," Draco chuckled from his prostrate position on the floor. Narcissa and Winky both recoiled simultaneously when they noticed that Draco's trousers were undone as though he had been touching himself. "I thought I said that no one was to disturb Hermione and I this evening?"

"I think you actually said every evening, Draco dear," Hermione giggled from her spot above the fireplace.

"I will not stand for your insolence," Narcissa said angrily. "I can have you removed."

Draco struggled to his feet. "You'll do no such thing Mother," Draco slurred as he stood unsteadily, the effects of the massive amounts of Firewhisky now becoming very evident. His handsome features were gaunt and drawn, and the dark circles under his eyes betrayed his lack of sleep. He was able to function in public, but just barely, and Lucius had him working on business matters that required very little personal interaction. Since regaining his home and family, Lucius had been very protective of both and had taken a surprising turn as doting father and loving husband. Lucius laughed often now, and Narcissa reflected, enabled his son's destructive relationship…with this _thing_.

"Draco, she's destroying you," Narcissa said to her son. "Just look at yourself."

Draco performed a comic routine of trying to look at his own backside and spiraling into slow pirouettes before falling back to the floor. He had passed out from the effort.

Hermione clapped her approval and Narcissa turned towards her. Clad in a very form-fitting toga, Hermione was garishly portrayed as some sort of Persephone in an idyllic setting with flowers, bunches of grapes, and a laurel wreath on her head. There was also a Bacchanal quality to her, always laughing and drinking in her gilded frame, which explained Draco's constant drinking. She looked beautiful. A little too beautiful Narcissa thought, because in real life, that hair never seemed so tame.

"Why do you do this to him?" Narcissa asked.

"It's my nature," Hermione said gesturing around to the environment inside her frame and laughing. She held a little sparrow on her fingertip as she stroked the nose of a small calf.

"Oh what are we going to do about this?" Narcissa said to no one in particular, picking up the half-empty bottle of Firewhisky that was in danger of being knocked over, or drunk, by Draco when he roused.

"Winky thinks we need another one."

"Another what?" Hermione and Narcissa said together.

"Another painting."

"I don't believe that we can get another portrait like this, Winky. Draco had it commissioned in Bulgaria, by an old painter that met Hermione years ago through her association with that Quidditch player, Viktor Krum. I heard that he passed away, though I am not sure that was a great loss to the art world." Narcissa looked at the low cut toga disapprovingly.

"Hey, watch what you say! I am a valuable piece of art. Draco tells me I am the most valuable painting in all the land. Actually he tells me a lot of things, and shows me a lot of things too." Hermione giggled and blushed while Narcissa looked at the floor. "He loves me." Hermione walked around her frame, and sat on a stump and absently stroked a hare that hopped into her lap. Her eyes began to water and she looked at Narcissa, "I know that he doesn't really love me, he loves her, but I still want him to be happy. Look at him, he is so cute, but so sad. I was created to bring him enjoyment, but I don't think I am doing a very good job." She put her face in her hands and sobbed.

"I think that we will have a very hard time finding someone who could copy this work sufficiently. She seems very in tune with her surroundings." Narcissa's eyes watered as she saw the level of emotion a mere painting had with her son. She loved him as well, and realized that she needed to help, not punish. Winky was right.

"Why would you want two paintings of me anyway?" Hermione asked.

Winky spoke up, "If we give the real Ms. Granger a copy of this painting, you could speak to her directly and explain Draco's feelings, and perhaps get her to talk to him. Winky believes that may be a powerful discussion."

Narcissa looked at Winky suspiciously. She was intrigued by Winky's plan, but creating a magical painting, especially from a copy of someone else's work, was a very precise art, and any differences might make the subject behave in a different way. Malfoy Manor was full of magical paintings of long dead relatives, but those were made using sitting models, and their essences at the time were transferred directly to the canvas, driving their actions based on how they felt at the time of the sitting. That is why most subjects in paintings act sleepy, it used to take a long time to make one. In cases like this portrait of Hermione, the painter had to use some kind of special magic to create the actions and mannerisms as he painted, since there was no subject that sat for the work. Draco had paid a fortune to get a life sized, magical painting of Hermione, and for all Narcissa knew, the real Hermione had no idea that it existed.

"Winky believes that there is already another painting."

Narcissa snapped her head to the painting and saw Hermione slowly turn to face them both. "Is that true?" she said.

"Perhaps," Hermione said as she played with a small rock at the edge of a gurgling stream. "How did you know?"

"Winky came in here to check on the young Master, and you were not in your frame."

Hermione held her hands up to her mouth in mock horror, then laughed again. "You caught me! Old Krum did make a smaller copy and hid it away. I don't know where it is though."

"What do you mean? Can't you see or hear anything while in that frame?" Narcissa was tempering her frustration with excitement upon learning about the existence of the painting.

"I can hear voices sometimes, but it is dark, and dreary," Hermione said, hugging herself and shaking like a little girl, then laughing, "it must be in storage somewhere."

"That's no help," Narcissa sighed.

"Winky thinks maybe this is a clue. If you go back to the beginning, perhaps someone knows where it is."

"Then tomorrow we go to Bulgaria," Narcissa declared as she stepped over the detritus to get to the doorway. "Winky, could you have someone clean all this up, please?" Narcissa asked as she surveyed the room sadly. She loved her son, and if there was any chance that she could cure him by finding a blasted painting in Bulgaria, she would do it. Lucius wouldn't be too happy once he learned she was returning to Bulgaria. She could deal with that in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

In which we meet Hermione.

When the sunlight crept in through the magnificent terrace windows the next morning, Narcissa was already awake. She was enjoying the feel of her husband's firm biceps as she pinned them down against the mattress while he had an orgasm underneath her. His pale, chiseled chest was marked with battle scars, but he had filled out nicely since his stint in Azkaban. Narcissa and Lucius, now in their 40's, ate well, exercised regularly and enjoyed the best sex of their lives. Always faithful to each other, they had become closer since the isolation following the end of the war. That isolation had lead them to enjoy each other's company and take refuge in the Muggle world where they could remain anonymous. They traveled frequently to luxurious Muggle resorts all over the globe where they could relax without those incessant reporters following them. In hindsight, Narcissa reflected, maybe they should have paid closer attention to Draco and stopped his downward spiral before it had reached this point.

"Lucius, I need you to do something for me," Narcissa purred as she got out of bed and put on her robe. She knew that Lucius dreaded talking to people at the Ministry, now that his influence had changed and he could no longer get whatever he wanted. Because of this, she had taken extra care to completely satisfy him this morning.

"What do you need, my pet?" Lucius asked, realizing that he had just been played, but in the afterglow, not minding.

"I need an International Portkey today."

"Today? That is a big favor," Lucius smiled wickedly. "May I ask where you intend to go?"

"Bulgaria," Narcissa answered nonchalantly, and turned to start brushing her hair.

(BREAK)

Hermione unbuckled her seat belt and put her laptop on the tray table in front of her. This was going to be a difficult sell and she knew it. She had been working on the exhibition for a year, and proving to her boss that she was not only the youngest Assistant Director of the British Museum, but a skilled negotiator, able to identify and acquire rare artwork. Her laptop showed an elaborate 3-D rendering of her planned space with the walls and lighting mapped exactly. Color, style, and timelines were all perfect, she just needed this last piece to be able to complete the exhibition and show her boss that not only was she ready for a promotion, but that she didn't need him anymore.

_How could I be so stupid? The first rule of business is to never sleep with your boss, especially when he is married._

"Coffee or juice?"

"Pumpkin juice please," Hermione said distractedly.

"Excuse me? We only have orange and apple, miss," the flight attendant said as she looked at the young woman in seat 7D.

"Oh…wait, what?" Hermione looked up from her computer and focused in on the flight attendant and her question.

"You said you wanted _pumpkin juice_," the elderly gentleman in 7C said to Hermione as he shot her a knowing glance.

"I meant orange juice," Hermione called out to the flight attendant as she locked eyes with the stranger next to her.

"And you sir?"

"Do you have Butterbeer?" the man said with a smile, not taking his eyes off Hermione.

"I beg your pardon?" the attendant asked.

"Sorry, I'll have a coffee, black," he said, smiling at Hermione.

When the attendant moved on, Hermione quietly asked, "Who are you?"

"My name, Miss Granger, is Mortimer Lightwood, pleased to meet you." The older man smiled and held out his hand.

"How do you know… how do you know who I am?"

"Please Miss Granger, everyone knows you. Just because you have chosen to go back to being a Muggle doesn't mean that we don't remember who you are."

Hermione smiled weakly and shook the stranger's hand. _It had to happen sooner or later._ She sat back in her seat and pondered what to do next. She had worked hard to distance herself from the Wizarding world, Ron, Hogwarts, the Ministry, and everything that she had endured through her childhood. She was tired of playing the part of the hero, the girlfriend, and lover, the Mudblood…all of it. As soon as the war was over, she enrolled at Oxford, a mild Confundus Charm helping the admissions director overlook her lack of "traditional" schooling, and the next thing she knew, she had graduated in Fine Arts with highest honors. She had never realized how much she loved art history until she went to University, Hogwarts having no arts programs at all, unless you count Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Don't worry Miss Granger, your secret is safe with me. I am the legal secretary to the Minister, and I am well aware of your situation."

"Yes, yes, my request," Hermione said as she smiled weakly. "You work for Kingsl…, I mean the Minister. Is he well?"

"Oh yes, I dare say so. I don't imagine that you have been reading _The Daily Prophet_ since your self-imposed exile?"

"No, I can't say that I have." _Actually,_ Hermione thought, _I have stayed away from it like the plague_.

"Well, as you can imagine, Azkaban has been bursting at the seams, so there is now a move to rehabilitate former sympathizers in order to get them back into society. Your school friends have each risen to their own levels of power, even young Draco Malfoy." He leaned back and stroked his goatee reflectively. "However, no one is too sure about you Miss Granger. You are the first case of a person being rendered Unplottable."

"Draco? He's not in Azkaban with his parents?" Hearing Draco's name made her shiver a little. She hadn't thought of the blonde-haired ferret in years. _Why isn't that bastard in prison?_

"Oh no. His family was eventually cleared of all charges as they turned over evidence on the other Death Eaters. Essentially the Malfoys were treated as spies for the Ministry and exonerated."

"Really? That's quite fascinating," Hermione said, gripping the edge of the tray table. This was precisely why she stayed away from the Wizarding World. They could be so _bloody_ stupid sometimes. "Mr. Lightwood, do you mind if I ask you another question?"

"Certainly my dear," Mr. Lightwood said pleasantly.

"Why are you able to talk to me? When I am around other wizards, they tend to not notice or acknowledge me. However, you seem to have no problem."

"Honestly Miss Granger, I was the one that arranged the Unplottable Charm on you. A brilliant thought, actually. While becoming untraceable may have prevented a wizard from knowing your whereabouts, Unplottability completely hides your existence from the Wizarding world. As I was the one that arranged it, alas I was the only one that was not affected by it. I assure you, discretion is my business." The old gentleman looked so sincere that Hermione just had to believe him.

"I hope you understand that I want to remain distanced from the Wizarding world," Hermione said, shooting him a serious look. "I don't want to know anything about it."

Mr. Lightwood smiled and took his coffee from the flight attendant that had just returned. He silently held it in his hands and eventually took a sip. When he put the cup down, he spoke again, "I must admit I am fascinated by you Miss Granger, but you are in no danger of hearing anything about _our kind _from me. Please relax and enjoy your flight." With that, he turned to look out the window at the North Sea passing underneath them.

Hermione felt guilty for treating the man so rudely. After all, he had done nothing but sat next to her on a flight. _Wait, why is he on a flight at all, he could use a Portkey to leave England._ She considered this before she spoke up again, "Why are you following me?"

"I beg your pardon?"

I'm on a cheap flight from Heathrow to Bulgaria, and I just happen to be sitting next to the only Wizard on the planet that can actually see and talk to me? That's not a coincidence. You're following me aren't you?" Hermione said as she turned to the man and glared at him. Inside she had switched from panic to anger about being so violated.

"Miss Granger, please don't get yourself all worked up. I am meeting some Muggles in Bulgaria about Ministry business. I needed to take a flight so that they could meet me at the airport. Taking a Portkey would not have given off the proper image. They need to think that I am just a regular chap. I had no idea you were on this flight until I saw you in the waiting lounge. A quick Charm later, I moved into this seat while its original occupant is in an exit row behind us," Mr. Lightwood smiled, pleased with himself. I wasn't planning to make myself known, but I couldn't help it, I'm sorry. Do you forgive me?" he said, offering his hand.

Hermione smiled and shook his hand. "I understand sir, and I thank you for all you have done. I am the one who should be sorry for insulting you."

"Nonsense young lady, it is not a problem at all. Now tell me, what takes you to Bulgaria?"

"I need to see a man about a painting."

"A painting? Are you an art collector?"

"Not personally, but I am working for the British Museum. There is a new exhibit that is opening soon, and I'm in charge of it. There is a very unusual painting in Bulgaria that I want. There is little known of the artist, since he died several years ago, and if I can just get this one piece, it will complete the collection."

"Sounds interesting. What makes this painting so special to you?"

"It was painted by Viktor Krum's grandfather."

"Miss Granger, you know that you can't show a moving, wizarding painting to Muggles. How would you explain that to the Museum?"

"That is what makes it so interesting. Vladimir Krum was locally famous for his paintings of Pureblood Wizards, and murder at the hands of Grindelwald. However, he has one," here she paused and smiled, "Muggle painting, that is a magnificent pastoral landscape. I had the chance to see it myself years ago, and I am hoping to secure it for my exhibit. That is, if Viktor will see me again. I'm going there in person because my letters have not been returned."

"Ah yes, a lost love. Though fortunately for you, the Unplottable Charm will not work outside of Britain, and Wizards will be able to see you again. I guess the rest will be up to you," Mr. Lightwood smiled as he finished his cup of coffee.

"Right," Hermione said as she looked back down to the screen of her laptop. _I hope I'm ready._

The plane landed after dark in the port city of Burgas, on the coast of the Black Sea. Hermione said her farewell to her seatmate, put on her coat and scarf and went down the gangplank to the tarmac. She had no luggage except her briefcase, and started walking toward the airport terminal. About halfway there, she noticed an ominous, bearded figure in a large, fur lined cloak. Behind him was a house-elf with an equally long, dark beard. The other passengers walked right by, as though they saw nothing, and Hermione registered that there must be some sort of Charm making the pair visible to only her. She slowed her pace and gripped her wand inside her coat pocket. She thought it might be Viktor, but it would be hard to recognize anyone behind all that facial hair.

"Hermy-own-ninny!"

Hermione loosened her grip on her wand as Viktor pulled her into a friendly bear hug.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

In which Hermione arrives at Krum manor.

A/N I've plotted this story all the way out to the end now and we should be in the 15 chapter range. The only thing I haven't figured out is how much sex this website can take. I might have to keep it clean.

"Viktor!" Hermione squealed as he twirled her in circles.

"Ha! It is good to see you after all these years, little one!" Viktor said, placing her gently back on the ground. He had grown into a bear of a man. Barrel-chested, wildly hairy, and overflowing with happiness, he was a lot different than the young man participating in the ill-fated Triwizard Tournament so many years ago. "Why did you not respond to any of my owls?"

"I sent you Muggle letters. I guess I didn't think about the responses coming back by owl. That must be why I didn't receive any. I'm sorry I came unannounced, because I really want to borrow your painting, and I don't have much time," Hermione said, looking embarrassed. She had forgotten that Unplottability also meant no mail delivery by owl. _I have been out of the Wizarding World for too long,_ she thought.

"No problem, no problem little one," Viktor said graciously as he put his arm around her and lead the way to the black, vintage Rolls Royce limousine waiting for them just outside the low airport terminal. "Dimo here checked the passenger lists and told me when you would arrive." Viktor gestured to the bearded House-elf that was currently getting in the driver seat of the limousine, much to Hermione's concern. "I could tell that you would be arriving soon from your letters, and we are happy to have you come visit us again."

Hermione sat back in the luxurious car and stared at the tips of the House-elf's ears, the only part of him that was visible over the back of the seat. "Is he really going to drive this thing?" she asked, looking at Viktor with worry.

"Drive? Why drive?" Viktor said and snapped his fingers. In an instant, the car appeared in front of a giant manor house, some sort of large-object Apparition having been performed by the House-elf.

Hermione smiled to herself, realizing that their magical abilities never ceased to amaze her. Before she could compliment Viktor on how beautiful his estate was, they were assaulted by a cacophony of voices. She panicked for an instant before she realized that they belonged to children.

"Daddy, Daddy!" they cried, descending upon them from every direction. Some were dismounting from their brooms; others were pouring in from the side yard, and two babies came out of the front door of the manor.

"Ha, Ha, Ha little ones," Viktor cried out as they attacked him with hugs and kisses, "I promised you all that I would bring you a present, and here she is!" At this, Viktor gestured to Hermione, who had just stepped out of the limousine. Eleven pairs of eyes fixed upon her, radiating with joy; a truly happy, enormous family.

"Oh, hello," Hermione said to them all, "I'm Hermione, pleased to meet you."

The children swarmed her, each telling her hello in return, trying out rusty English phrases, and telling her stories in Bulgarian that she could not understand in the least. She laughed with them and thought what a wonderful family Viktor had, how lively they were, and how different this was from her own life.

At that moment, an attractive woman emerged from the front of the manor. Roughly Hermione's age, tall, with long beautiful hair; she strode up to Hermione as the children parted to let her through. "You must be Hermione Granger," the woman said. "I have heard a lot about you over the years."

"I hope some of it was positive," Hermione responded tentatively.

The woman broke into a broad smile and laughed, "Ha! Yes, all good, very good! Welcome to our home," she said, pulling Hermione into her own bear-hug. "I am Anastasia, and these little monsters are our children. Get off, you devils! Let her come into the house," she said laughing.

Hermione walked into the foyer of the Krum manor for the second time in her life. It had been years since her last visit, but nothing had changed. The dark foyer opened up to a great hall that called to mind an ancient castle with dark wood and dragon motifs on shields, medallions, and on the tapestries covering the walls. There was an enormous fireplace at the far end, with a roaring fire that warmed the entire room. The children returned to their previous activities and the smallest one was finally pulled into her mother's arms as they went towards large, cushioned couches in front of the fire.

"You have a beautiful home," Hermione said to the couple as they sat down.

"Thank you," Anastasia said. "With eleven children, we need all the space we can get."

Dimo the House-elf reappeared and offered each of them a glass of pumpkin juice. When he finished serving, and there was only one glass on the tray, he said something gruff in Bulgarian which Viktor answered without his characteristic smile.

Hermione took her glass and looked at it carefully as she brought it to her lips. She closed her eyes as she sipped the drink, memories flooding back as her taste buds sent their pleasurable messages to her brain after many years of not tasting the drink.

Viktor and Anastasia locked eyes and nodded imperceptibly.

"What did Dimo say?" Hermione asked.

"He wanted to take the last glass up to my father."

"Oh, your father is here? I would like to meet him again," Hermione said cheerily.

Viktor frowned, "He no longer receives guests. He receives no one but Dimo anymore."

"That's so sad," Hermione responded. "May I ask what happened?"

Anastasia answered, "He wants his peace and quiet. We see him during the Holidays and on special occasions, but he stays up in his study the rest of the time."

"How long has he been a recluse? I don't remember that when I was here before."

"Since my mother died, when I was a child, I guess. For some reason, he came out to see you on your first visit. I am afraid we will not be so lucky this time." Viktor took a sip of his drink before looking towards his wife and starting up the discussion again. "Hermione, what have you been up to all of these years? We haven't heard about you at all," Viktor asked.

"I've been busy. I graduated from a Muggle university and went to work at the British Museum. I am putting together my first solo exhibit and…"

"But what about your magic?" Viktor interrupted. "What about all you learned at Hogwarts? How could you leave that behind? How could you leave your friends?"

"I didn't leave magic behind completely. I still read and have my wand. I just left the Wizarding World behind," Hermione said, placing her drink on the table. "I faced things that a child should have been protected from. The end result was good, we defeated Voldemort, but the personal cost was very high. My childhood was spent with people seeing me as part of this Golden Trio, I was a War Hero at 18. I had friends that died. I had to erase my parent's memories and send them to Australia. Facing the press, and people that wanted to either congratulate me or get something from me was difficult. I thought I was in love with Ron, but that was just something we imagined. I eventually realized that it was important for me to get away and find myself."

"And what did you find?" Viktor asked, stealing another glance at his wife.

Hermione noticed the exchange this time, and watched them both as she replied, "I don't know. Maybe that I'm a work in progress."

Viktor replied quickly, "Hermione, we are happily married and have eleven children. You are alone. You need to have a family, family is the most important thing."

Anastasia nodded her head gravely. "You can't truly live until you have someone to live for. That is the most important thing in life."

Hermione stalled. She didn't know what to make about this sudden outpour of advice. She just came here to get a painting, and she half expected to see that Viktor was pining for her, and that he might want something romantic to happen between them. She didn't expect him to have moved on so… completely. "I…I…I guess you're right. I just don't know. I'm certainly not ready for eleven children, but maybe it is time I try to meet someone?"

They both smiled, and Anastasia rocked the now sleeping child in her arms as they finished their drinks.

After Anastasia took the little one off for a nap, Viktor and Hermione ascended the grand staircase to the second floor of the manor, where there was an enormous ballroom filled with paintings. Portraits, landscapes, and still-lifes covered every inch of the walls; and many other framed and unframed paintings were stacked along the floor.

"I had all the paintings pulled out from storage for you. I am not sure that I know the exact one you are looking for. I have lived here so long, I don't remember one painting from another, and I don't remember one not moving in the normal way. There were more than I thought, and I hope you can find the one you are looking for in here."

"I hope I can too," Hermione said, her face falling as she started the task of sifting through the paintings, looking for the one she wanted. "Are all of these your grandfather's?"

"Most of them, yes," Viktor said cryptically. "My grandfather was a famous painter many years ago, and he was murdered by Grindelwald for his commitment to our family and his refusal to help him in his evil quest. The Krum name is well known here in Bulgaria for always standing up against evil. When he died, my father continued the family legacy of painting, but alas, his ability was overshadowed by my grandfather's death. Eventually my father stopped painting. He hasn't painted in years."

"Is one of your father's works here as well?" Hermione asked, looking at a pastoral scene where the cows were following a man across a pasture. Hermione noticed the graceful gait of the herd and heard the tinkling of the bells around their necks. _This isn't it_, she thought.

"There's one," Viktor said, pointing to a portrait of an old man sleeping in a chair.

Hermione noticed that there was an enormous amount of detail in this painting, almost like you could reach out and touch it. It was about a meter out of her reach but she could see it was excellent. "It's beautiful," she said.

"He did have a gift, although he didn't always use it appropriately."

Hermione looked closely at Viktor, and could tell by the look on his face that the discussion was over.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

In which Narcissa comes to Bulgaria

_A/N I'm not changing all the "w's" to "v's" to make the Krum's sound like vampires. Let's imagine that they speak clearer than they did in the books, or just do it in your head._

Narcissa was walking out of her dressing room and sliding on her long black leather gloves when she ran into Lucius.

"Darling, I've returned from the Ministry with the Portkeys you requested. This one," he held a small package wrapped in green silk, "will get you to Bulgaria. The one wrapped in red," he purred as he slipped the small package into her décolletage, "will bring you back to me. I expect you back tonight," Lucius said with a raised eyebrow.

"Dearest," Narcissa said, pressing the full length of her body against her husband, "I will most certainly return tonight. Wild horses could not keep me from sleeping with you." She slapped his buttocks as she walked towards the Manor's entrance to activate the Portkey. "Trust me," she said, and blew him a kiss as she went through the door.

Lucius watched her as she delicately unwrapped the green silk object, initiating the spell that would take her to Bulgaria. He returned to the Manor and slowly made his way to his study. "Trust me, indeed," he mused. Turning to face the door of the study, he exclaimed, "Winky, we need to have a little chat."

(BREAK)

When the excruciatingly high heels of her Manolo Blahnik alligator boots hit the uneven rocks, Narcissa knew something was up. The wind beat against her full-length mink and as she recovered from the effects of the Portkey, she said aloud, "Very funny, Lucius."

She was standing at the edge of a high precipice, overlooking a deep river valley that meandered through the rocky headlands towards a small village. She hadn't told Lucius where in Bulgaria she wanted to go, or why, and this was his way of letting her know his displeasure. She laughed at his childish gesture. He knew that she was excellent at Apparition, and leaving this spot wouldn't be a problem. He would pay for this, and it was going to be delightful.

Narcissa dropped the now-used Portkey, a small fishing lure, on the ground. She smiled again at Lucius' choice of object. Yes, he was 'fishing' for answers. It wasn't fair to keep him in the dark about why she was coming here, but she couldn't have him tagging along when she had things she needed to do on her own. She straightened her shoulders, held the front of her coat, turned on the spot, and vanished.

Krasimir Krum sat alone in his study, as he did each day. The draperies were drawn, a few candles were lit, and he occupied an overstuffed chair next to the fireplace. He was dressed, as was his custom, all in white. When the crack of Narcissa's Apparition sounded behind him, he didn't flinch; it was as if he was expecting her.

"You're not going to stand when a lady enters?" Narcissa said, trying to sound confident.

Krasimir slowly extricated himself from his chair and turned to face Narcissa. Standing well over six and a half feet tall, he towered over her as he walked to where she stood. She removed her long black gloves, mink hat, and turned her face up to him.

"I have been waiting for your return all these years," Krasimir said, leaning down and kissing her on both cheeks.

"Krasimir, I told you years ago, that we were over. I married Lucius, you married Anna. That is the way it was supposed to work out. Isn't it time we moved past that?" Narcissa walked over to the bar, selected a crystal decanter full of a pale-colored liquid, and poured herself a glass. "What would Anna think?"

"Anna is dead."

"I know."

"I never loved her the way that I loved you, and it kills me."

"I know, and I am sorry. I didn't mean for it to turn out like this, but I love Lucius. Nothing is ever going to come between us."

"Family is everything," Krasimir said, looking down at the floor.

"Yes, family is everything. That is why I am here."

"The painting."

"You created it for Draco, didn't you?" Narcissa said, walking back to where the man was still standing. "He really asked you to make a painting of Hermione?"

"He looks so much like you Cissy; I couldn't turn him down, just like I could never refuse you. It took me years to create; I only had the chance to see the girl when she came to visit Viktor after the War. I committed her to memory, and created a true masterpiece. She was so real, you could fall in love with her," Krasimir said, finally looking up into Narcissa's eyes and getting lost in them.

"Well, he did fall in love with her. In love with the Hermione in the painting, and it is slowly killing him. We think that we need to get him to talk to her, but there is some…bad blood between us. I want to know where the other painting of her is. If I could just find it and get it to her somehow, we think that the two Hermiones might talk and…"

"Who is this we? You and your beloved, Lucius?" Krasimir asked as he walked over to the bar and looked over the selection of drinks.

"No. My House-elf and I," Narcissa said very quietly, and found something of great interest to examine in a nearby tapestry.

"Ha! Your husband does not even know you are here! I should keep you, you know. I am still a very strong, virile man. I could make you my, how do you say, _love slave_."

Narcissa turned to face him, "You could try, but you won't. I'm here for the painting Kras, are you going to help me or not?"

"Humph. It is in storage, we'll have to go get it. Let's finish our drinks first." Krasimir took his glass of inky black liquid back to his chair. "Come, tell me some stories."

"We'll have to go down to the second floor," Krasimir said as he held the study door open for Narcissa. "Viktor has a herd of children, so let's try and be quiet so that they leave us alone. We can take these back stairs. That is if you can walk in those boots."

"I can walk anywhere in these, don't worry about me," Narcissa said as she gripped the handrail of the narrow servant's staircase. About halfway down, she said, "I hear voices."

She walked quietly down the last few stairs and cracked a small door that was hidden in the wall. She looked out into a giant ballroom that was covered with paintings, and had canvases stacked on the floor. On the far side was Krasimir's son, with none other than Hermione Granger.

"What is she doing here?" Narcissa said, turning on Krasimir.

"Viktor said that someone was coming to look at some of my father's paintings. Dimo!" Krasimir hissed and the bearded House-elf appeared in front of him. After a short exchange in Bulgarian, Krasimir said, "Yes, it is Hermione Granger and she is looking for a painting for her museum exhibit."

"Oh no. We need to get your Hermione painting in front of that Hermione, and I am sure that she is not in her frame. That girl is certain to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Do you want me to send Dimo somewhere?" Krasimir asked.

Narcissa thought for a moment. "Send him to go tell my House-elf, Winky, that we need Hermione in her other frame. She will know what to do."

Krasimir gave the bearded elf a short instruction in Bulgarian, and he Disapparated with a quiet pop.

Winky and Lucius were standing in Draco's room looking at the painting. Hermione was sitting on a stump, surrounded by woodland creatures, seemingly protecting her from Lucius' glare.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, absently stroking a hare and pulling at the grass with her toe. "It's just the way I am, I'm here to make Draco happy."

"I would say that your results are less than stellar," Lucius drawled. He turned to give Winky a stern lecture when a bearded House-elf suddenly Apparated into the room with them.

Dimo spouted a stream of Bulgarian to Winky, who understood perfectly. Winky in turn turned to Hermione, "You must go to your other frame, now."

Hermione pantomimed a look of terror, jumped up from her seat and ran out of frame. Winky said something in Bulgarian to Dimo, and he Disapparated again.

Lucius remained frozen through the whole exchange, and after Dimo's departure, he turned to Winky and said, "Now what?"

"Hermione," Viktor asked as he pulled a painting out of a stack, "you said earlier that you wanted to find yourself. Have you been in hiding? How did you keep what you have been doing so secret?"

Hermione flipped through a few more paintings before answering. "Truthfully? I made a deal with the Ministry. I asked to be made Unplottable."

"Ha, so no one can find you, no matter where you are?"

"Well it only works inside the boundaries of Britain, but yes, that is the idea."

Narcissa was listening in on their conversation from behind the servant's doorway and only caught snippets of what they said, but there was one important thing that she did overhear: Unplottability. _What an ingenious girl,_ Narcissa thought to herself, _if you want to slip out of society for some reason, get yourself made Unplottable._ _I wonder why she decided to go into hiding?_

Dimo returned moments later, looked directly at Narcissa and gave her a nod.

"Well, now we wait and hope," Narcissa said.

Hermione and Viktor continued the search for the paintings for almost another hour. Narcissa and Krasimir were at the point of giving up, when they heard Hermione cry out.

"I found it!"

Hermione held the old painting up for Viktor to see, and they both admired the painstaking detail and the use of color and tone. They both also failed to notice that the next one in the stack was a small painting of Hermione wearing a tight-fitting tunic.

"Wonderful!" Viktor exclaimed. "We just have time to make your flight if we hurry."

"Merlin's beard," Narcissa whispered as she watched Hermione and Viktor leave. "What do I do now?"

As if on cue, Dimo entered the now-empty ballroom and walked over to where Viktor and Hermione had been standing. He pulled the painting of Hermione out of the stack and held it up in the air.

"Wheee!" Hermione squealed as Dimo held her aloft.

Narcissa cursed her decision to wear stiletto heels as she navigated the slick ballroom floor. When she finally reached the painting and took it from him, Dimo Disapparated again. "He doesn't stick around does he?" she said.

"He's busy," Krasimir answered. "He is our only House-elf."

"Why didn't you say something?" Narcissa said reproachfully to the Hermione in the painting.

"Oops," Hermione relied playfully.

"Useless," Narcissa answered towards Krasimir. Where do you think they went? I guess I can just give it to her myself."

Krasimir stifled a laugh. "You think she will get anywhere near you?"

"Point taken. Apparate down there and put it in her hands. You can still catch them," Narcissa said confidently.

Krasimir took the painting and started walking toward the ballroom door. "I don't Apparate," he said, closing the door behind him.

Narcissa realized her dilemma. Krasimir would never make it in time. She couldn't approach Hermione directly, as she would probably scare her to death. Apparating to the airport wasn't an option, because she'd never been there before and could splinch herself or land in a public area. Even if she knew where to look, she couldn't find Hermione in London because of her Unplottability. She needed a new plan. She Apparated back to Krasimir's study to retrieve her hat and gloves, then walked elegantly down the grand staircase where Krasimir was standing alone in the front courtyard.

"I just missed them," Krasimir said.

"I assumed that," Narcissa answered. "The painting please?" She held out an elegant gloved hand.

Krasimir first took her hand and kissed it, causing a blush to rise in Narcissa's porcelain cheeks. He then held out the painting as he said, "You are welcome to return any time."

"Thank you Kras, but don't wait for me."

"I don't know what else to do," he answered.

"With eleven grandchildren, I imagine you can think of something," Narcissa replied. With a devilish smile, she grasped the red silk that was wrapped around her return Portkey that had been hidden in her cleavage. As she pulled the silk out seductively, the object made contact with her skin and triggered the Portkey. She vanished, leaving a ribbon of red silk fluttering down to the ground.

Krasimir picked up the silk, and put it up to his cheek. "That woman sure knows how to leave."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

In which Lucius and Draco talk

A/N- remember I own none of this stuff and make no money from all your reviews. But I appreciate them. This chapter is a short one to clear all this stuff up.

Lucius pulled down a bottle of Ogden's Firewhisky, a bottle of Pepperup Elixir, a small vial filled with purple liquid, and some tomato juice. He unceremoniously sloshed them all together in a glass and set it in front of Draco. "Drink," he instructed his son.

Winky appeared with a steak, rare. Lucius spoke again, "Eat." He said, staring quietly at his son who choked down the drink and took a few tentative bites of the steak. Lucius walked around to the table, sat next to Draco and said, "We need to talk. I know life hasn't been easy for you. I've made some bad decisions that affected you and your mother. I feel guilty and try to make up for that every day. I don't know what I have done to make you… like this."

Draco looked at the tabletop for a few moments and then said, "I wish I had a good answer."

"Tell me about that painting of yours," Lucius asked. He noticed that his son was getting some of his color back, but he was still gaunt, and the dark circles under his eyes betrayed how infrequently he slept.

Draco looked up and smiled, "I know it seems silly, but I like that painting. She makes me happy."

"Draco, you could have any woman you want. Why are you wasting away here in the Manor with a painting?"

"You know, when I started Hogwarts, I thought I was the greatest thing that had ever happened to that school since you went there. I was a Malfoy, after all. Potter was an annoyance, and Weasley an idiot. Then I noticed Hermione. She was an annoying Mudblood invading our school, but she was smart, and good. Over the years, she…grew on me. She became beautiful, and a genius. She was brave. Everything I could want, and nothing I could have. She was perfect and beneath me at the same time. It was horrible. The only thing I could do was _hate_. I hated Mudbloods, hated her, all her friends, and most of all, hated myself for being a Malfoy."

Lucius sat back at hearing this. To say that he and Draco had shared few emotional conversations over the years would be an understatement. To hear his story, and how their family history had poisoned his childhood so completely, was heartbreaking. Especially now that the Malfoy name meant so little, and Lucius himself no longer viewed Muggles as Mudblood scum.

"I started dating Pansy," Draco continued, "because she represented the polar opposite of Hermione. She was a mean-spirited, dumb Pureblood that caused me misery every day. It was just what I thought I needed to punish myself. After the War, after they released us, I realized that I had been punishing myself for no reason. Everything I was raised to believe was wrong, and the joke was on me. Not only did being a Malfoy mean nothing, but the Mudblood Hermione was a war hero and finally dating Weasley. I ended up with nothing but my own misery."

"Son…" Lucius started, struggling to come up with something to say.

Draco cut him off, "Let me finish. I stalked Hermione. I followed everything she did, and found out that she broke up with Weasley and went to see Viktor Krum in Bulgaria. I followed her there and got Winky to find out what was going on inside and who was there."

Lucius shot a look at Winky, who pretended to not be listening while she puttered around in the kitchen.

"Turns out that the Krum family is just filled with artists, and Viktor's father agreed to see me. He figured out why I was there, and said that he could make me a painting of her…for a price. I agreed to anything. I'm sorry."

"What do you mean you're sorry?" Lucius asked.

Draco paused, "I was ashamed to do it, but I was desperate. He wanted a lock of mother's hair. I got it for him."

_That son of a bitch_, Lucius thought, holding back his anger. "I'll deal with that later, son. Continue."

"It took a long time, but one day, the painting just showed up in my room. It was wonderful. Hermione was finally mine, I guess, as much as she could be. I thought that I was happy, but maybe it was just some new misery I imposed upon myself. I could never really have her, but this was close. I guess I really have hit rock bottom," Draco finished. He picked up his plate and glass, took them absentmindedly to the sink, and stood there looking out the window.

Lucius remained in his chair, unsure of what to do. Winky then turned around and motioned for Lucius to get up and do something. Lucius rolled his eyes and stood up. "Draco, come with me," he said.

(BREAK)

Draco thought that the wind whipping through his hair was refreshing. It was the best he'd felt in months. He held the Quaffle casually as he made a wide circle, gauging his approach at the three rings set up in a field behind Malfoy Manor. He watched his father hover in front of the center ring, but there was no mistaking the fact that Lucius was going to move in as soon as Draco started to attack. Draco leaned forward on his broom and raced directly towards the center goal, just as his father raced out to intercept. Lucius never veered off course, and Draco smiled that he and his father were playing 'chicken', and that neither of the stubborn Malfoys were likely to turn away. They streaked toward each other, and at the last moment, Lucius veered away, Draco laughing that he had beaten his father. The laugh turned into a scream when Draco realized that as his father turned, he had grabbed the front of Draco's broom, and ripped it out from under him.

_"Aresto Momentum!"_ Draco cried out as he tumbled towards the ground, barely stopping before he hit the grass.

Lucius casually landed beside his son and held out the captured broom. "That was fun," Lucius said, sitting beside his son on the grass.

"Wow, I am really out of shape," Draco said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "I need to work out again."

Lucius remained quiet as he stared out over the countryside.

"You know, I think I need to get out and do something like this more. Get in shape, I mean."

Lucius looked at his son, but was still silent.

"Maybe I should take a little time off from work, go work out with our Quidditch team for a few weeks. Do you think I could do that? Dry out and get back in shape. What do you think?" Draco said looking earnestly at his father.

Lucius was pleased to see that his son had hit rock bottom, but was willing to work his way back up. He smiled and said, "I've already set it up."

Draco laughed, "You're always one step ahead, aren't you?"

"I try," Lucius answered with a shrug of his shoulders. "Draco, I just have one question. If you are so in love with Hermione, the real Hermione, then why didn't you go after her?"

"That's the problem, after she returned from Bulgaria, she disappeared. No one knew where she was or what she was doing. It was like she had been erased. I even bought Weasley a drink at The Three Broomsticks one night to try and see if he knew where she went. He didn't," Draco answered, looking genuinely sad. "Weasley said that she broke up with him when the reporters started hounding them after the War. Hermione hated the press and the popularity. Weasley, I think, probably enjoyed all the free things he got for being a celebrity. Hermione finally realized that she and Weasley were terrible together, and the Wizarding World was too shallow for someone as smart as she. She just left. Now I really don't have anything else except that painting."

_We'll see about that,_ Lucius thought. "Come on, I'll race you home."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

In which Hermione talks to her boss.

A/N- We're about halfway done, and remember...I don't own any of this and make no money from it. Thanks for the reviews so far, I like to hear what you think.

Hermione had money. After the War, the Ministry had quietly offered her, Harry, and Ron, a large lump sum of Galleons that represented how thankful they were that Voldemort was finally dead. Hermione knew that Kingsley was being kind and fair, but she also knew the money came from the coffers of old Pureblood families that had backed the wrong side. She resented getting money this way, and left it virtually untouched in the vaults that Gringotts was rebuilding. When she left, she had the Galleons converted into Pounds Sterling and transferred to a Muggle account in HSBC. She spent a little of the money on her University, and afterwards on a nice flat in Number Ten, Bloomsbury Square. It was close enough to her new job at the British Museum, and overlooked a charming park in a completely Muggle-infused part of London.

What she didn't plan on was the loneliness. She spent her formative years out of Muggle society, and found that she had few commonalities with people around her. The boys she met in school didn't quite fit, although a few of them turned out to be tireless lovers that helped her forget her past for a few hours. Since she graduated however, she was essentially alone. She lived alone, researched alone in the archives of the Museum, and attended fundraising events alone. It was this never-ending loneliness that drove her into the arms of her boss, one of the Directors of the European Gallery. It was a terrible mistake from the beginning. She wasn't sure if he was ever charming, but he was persistent, attractive, and unfortunately…married.

After months of working with Nigel, she finally broke down and let him take her to dinner. They had a few drinks, and the next thing she knew, they were snogging like mad, and he had her pressed up against the door of her flat. She fumbled for her keys, opened the door without missing a beat, and they fell together on the couch. They spent the next two hours engaging in some extremely consensual sex. When she caught him trying to sneak out hours later, he confessed that he had to go home to his wife and brand new baby. He barely escaped before she could hit him with a shoe.

In the three years that followed, Hermione had proved herself to be a fantastic Assistant Curator, who was promoted to a wonderful Assistant Director. She also proved to be a fool. She couldn't stop seeing Nigel. The sex was good though the guilt Hermione felt was terrible. However, at least there was someone in her life. She just couldn't seem to connect with anyone in the Muggle world, and at least the physical connection with Nigel, no matter how awful it made her feel, was better than nothing. Lately, Nigel had started to feel threatened by her rise within the Museum's hierarchy. She didn't need him anymore, and he showed his displeasure by acting like a petulant child. This was one of the things that concerned her about her exhibition. As perfectly planned as it was, it could be crushed by Nigel in a moment. She knew that breaking it off with Nigel should be at the top of her to-do list, but ending her relationship without ending her career was going to be a difficult task.

Hermione opened the door to her flat, and hung her coat on the rack by the door. She reached into her briefcase and pulled out her old beaded bag, the one that had supported her when she, Harry and Ron were on the run. She reached deep inside and extracted the Krum painting for her show. As Hermione walked over to the dining room table to place it on a portable easel, she reflected on the fact that after living here for years, it still looked like she hadn't finished moving in. There were a few boring pictures on the wall, no "interesting" pieces of art, not even any framed snapshots of her friends and family. It looked like a decorator had been hired to stage the entire place, with no input from its owner…which is exactly what had happened.

"Well, that's done," Hermione said to herself. She went into her kitchen, turned on the electric kettle, and selected a tea. While the water was heating, she turned to look at the painting and admired it again. She looked around her apartment and said, "One day I really have to get some better art in this place."

Hermione was sipping her tea and looking through her mail when the bell rang. It wasn't late, but late enough that she was surprised that she had a caller. She pushed the intercom and said a tentative, "Yes?"

"Hermione, let me up. I've got to see you." Nigel slurred into the speaker.

"Nigel, what are you doing here? It's late."

"Come on love, let me up."

Hermione let her finger hover above the intercom button, and tilted her head to the side questioningly for a moment. Nigel had not been to see her for months. He had never called her "love"; never mentioned anything about love; and never came over without planning ahead so that his wife wouldn't suspect anything. He had been distant and unapproachable for the past several weeks, so his showing up drunk tonight at her doorstep was a bad sign. She couldn't have him causing a scene in front of her neighbors, but she didn't want to see him. As her thoughts raced about what to do, she realized that this might be the leverage she needed to get her exhibit finally approved. Brushing her unruly locks back anxiously, she buzzed him in and slipped her wand into the sleeve of her jumper.

Nigel smiled charmingly as he entered Hermione's flat. He collapsed onto the couch and said, "Come here, come here, sit next to me."

"Nigel, how much have you had to drink?"

"All of it," he laughed. "I've made a very important decision tonight, and I'm ready to celebrate."

"What are you going on about?"

"Babe, I've decided to ask you to marry me; I'm going to tell my wife about us, and leave her. Well, maybe not really in that order," he said, falling back on the couch.

"You want to leave your wife for me, and get married?" Hermione asked, shocked. "This is a terrible decision. You haven't spoken to me in weeks, you're my boss, we've been having an affair, you are married with a baby, and I'm just an awful person to get involved in all of this," she realized aloud.

"It's not so bad, we can be happy. You have a nice place here. We can live together and you can keep working for me."

That sounded like a truly dreadful plan to Hermione. "Oh, no. Seriously, we need to sober you up. I'm going to make you some coffee," Hermione said, walking into the kitchen.

"Don't be angry, let's celebrate. Come back in here. How about one little kiss?"

Hermione leaned on the counter in frustration. This was it; she needed to get out of this relationship now. "No. You need to straighten up and get out of here. This can't go on any longer."

"What? Are you calling this off now?" Nigel called out from the living room. "I thought you had a show you wanted to put on?"

Hermione stopped making coffee and walked slowly back into the living room. Nigel was sitting up on the couch now, looking at her with a smug expression, and behind the mask of his drunkenness, she could see the anger that was boiling within him. _How could I have been so stupid to get involved with a man like this,_ she thought. "Nigel, I do have a show that I will put on, and you are going to agree to it. It is perfect and you know it. You also know that this," she said, motioning to the two of them, "is over. Right now."

"If you think that you stand a chance to put on a show without me, you are dead wrong. I own you. Maybe you do have some good ideas but you are just a little…whore." Nigel stood uncertainly, and started walking over to Hermione looking as though he intended to attack her. He was tall, with lean muscles and certainly a threat.

Hermione, with tears welling up in her eyes, whipped out her seldom-used wand from her jumper sleeve and said, "_Petrificus Totalus!_" Nigel froze in mid-stride while his arms and legs snapped together; he stayed upright for just a second, and then slowly fell to the floor like a Christmas tree on a weak stand. "You bastard," Hermione said, wiping the tears away. She looked down at her wand, and thought about how good it felt casting a spell. It had been a long time since she used her wand for anything other than the simplest cleaning charms. The power coursed through her again, and buoyed her up for what she knew had to come next. "Nigel, unfortunately, you have turned into one of my worst mistakes. Not the top of the list, mind you, but a big mistake nonetheless. Right now, I have placed you in a Full Body-Bind Curse. I learned it when I was enrolled in the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm a witch, and a pretty accomplished one at that. I'm a little out of practice, but I think I can handle you." Hermione smiled and waved her wand about, enjoying the feel again. "Normally, I couldn't tell you any of this, but you won't remember it for long." She carefully pointed her wand at Nigel, who lay frozen and wide-eyed with terror on the floor. This time she spoke no incantation, and used the same spell that altered her parents' memories, making them think they were Wendell and Monica Wilkins, and that they wanted to move to Australia. "Nigel," Hermione said as a soft light emitted from the tip of her wand, "you and I have never had an affair of any kind. Our relationship is purely professional. You love your wife and daughter very much, and have no plans to leave them. In fact, you can't wait to see them both. You want to treat everyone with respect, and you are looking forward to helping me stage my exhibition. The only reason you are here tonight is to tell me the good news that you just approved it. You fainted from excitement, and are slightly embarrassed and anxious to leave. You remember nothing about my magic or that I am giving you these instructions."

Hermione stopped the incantation and the Body-Bind Curse, and put her wand back in her sleeve. Nigel started to rouse, and she helped him to his feet. "Oh Nigel, you fainted. Is everything ok?"

Nigel was disoriented and looked around the room. "I don't know," he said. "I better be getting home to my family, I don't feel so good."

Hermione smiled, "That sounds like a good idea, let me get the door for you."

"Ok," Nigel said softly. "Congratulations again on your show. When are you scheduling it to debut?"

Hermione paused for a second, thought, then said, "Next month, April 24th."

"Brilliant, let me know how I can help," Nigel said, shaking her hand professionally. "Good night."

"Good night, Nigel, thank you," Hermione responded, and closed the door quietly behind him. "Wow," she said to herself when she heard the outside door close. "That felt good."


	8. Chapter 8

The Missing Painting chapter 8

In which Narcissa meets Mr. Granger

A/N I make no money from this story or these characters. I don't own any of this, and just do it for fun.

The Portkey returned Narcissa to the luxurious master bath in Malfoy Manor. She knew exactly what that meant. He was unhappy about being left out of her plans, and that is why she landed on the cliff in Bulgaria. She landed in the bath, because he wanted her to wash her sins away. "If it is a shower he wants, then a shower he shall get. Winky!" Narcissa called as she pulled off her hat and gloves.

The House-elf appeared instantly. "Yes?" Winky asked looking at the small painting that Narcissa had placed on her dressing table. "Hermione did not find the painting?"

"No, Hermione did not find the painting. Will you please hang up my coat for me and tell the 'Lord of the Manor' that I have returned?"

"Yes," Winky said and took Narcissa's coat and disappeared.

Narcissa turned to face her full-length dressing mirror and removed her earrings and bracelets. She placed them gently into a jewelry box that was on her dressing table. Next, she placed one foot on a stool, unzipped her long, black, alligator boot, and placed it carefully on the floor.

In the distance, from their adjoining master bedroom, a door opened. Narcissa heard it, but no other sound; so she assumed that Lucius had cast a Silencing Charm after entering, and that he was planning to spy on her as she undressed. This was a wonderful time to torture the voyeur for arranging her Portkey to deposit her on the cliff in Bulgaria. She removed her other boot with a very slow unzipping motion, and made sure to stretch over as much as possible. Lucius enjoyed seeing her curves, and she wanted to give him a show he would not soon forget. Now barefoot, she slowly shimmied out of her Issa London black sheath dress, revealing matched black lingerie underneath. Standing in front of the full-length mirror again, she examined her body clad only in the sheer black silk that was in contrast to her porcelain skin.

The door to the bath creaked open slightly, and Narcissa knew that Lucius was watching. She continued to caress her toned thighs and admired the tight curve of her buttocks. Slowly, she reached up to release her hair from its tight up-do, and leaned her head back to let it to flow freely, just the way Lucius liked. Now that her platinum locks were free to fall over her shoulders, she undid the clasp of her bra and demurely removed it, hanging it on the edge of the mirror. Now clad in just a thong, she walked over to the hook that held her thick, white robe, and pulled it down. She put the robe on, but left the front open on purpose. She then removed her last remaining undergarment and dropped it casually on the floor.

There was another noise near the bathroom door, and Narcissa tried not to smile as she walked freely to the shower, with the front of her robe wide open, and plenty of bare skin showing underneath. She reached inside the glass enclosure and turned on the hot water, making sure that a long expanse of leg and hip was exposed. As the water heated up and steamed the shower glass, Narcissa selected her soaps, rinses and sponges. She finally removed her robe and hung it on a hook. Slowly entering the shower, she began the torture she had planned for Lucius.

She let the hot water fall over her naked body, and pulled her platinum locks back, fully exposing her breasts. She turned around slowly, making sure that Lucius was able to see her from all angles. Next, she made an event out of lathering up her body, paying particular attention to her breasts. While she was soaping up her leg, which was propped up on the shower seat, she noticed a pale form enter the bathroom. She continued the charade of being so focused on her bathing that she didn't notice, but from the corner of her eye, she saw that Lucius was now standing inside the bathroom door, completely naked.

She let her body press against the shower glass as she continued to lather up. After a few moments, she turned to look directly at Lucius. He was practically foaming at the mouth with lust. Narcissa returned to the shower spray again and rinsed herself, making sure that she caressed every inch of her body as she wiped away the soap. Next, she looked at Lucius, and inclined her head ever so slightly, indicating that it was time for him to join her.

Lucius was fully aroused and moved spiritedly to the shower door. He smiled as he pulled on it, and then became confused, as it wouldn't budge. As realization swept over him, he looked up at Narcissa, who was enjoying his discomfort. Lucius pulled at the handle one more time, then raised his arms in supplication.

"Why?" Lucius called out to the heavens. "Why in the world would she lock this door?"

"You know exactly why," Narcissa answered as she leaned back and let the water pour over her naked form just on the other side of the glass. "You sent me to the edge of a cliff! That is not how nice husbands behave."

"Dearest," Lucius purred from the other side of the glass, "I'm sorry that you thought I was nice." He smiled and placed both hands on the glass and focused on his wife's face. "I apologize, and beg your forgiveness. I just wanted you to know that I don't like it when you leave without telling me why."

Narcissa unlocked the door with a little wandless magic and allowed Lucius to enter the shower.

(BREAK)

"So she found her painting on top of the one you wanted her to see, and didn't even notice it? That's priceless," Lucius laughed as Narcissa pinched him.

"It's terrible," Narcissa responded, unraveling herself from him, and sitting up in bed. "Now I have to get it to her, but can't possibly find her, because she is Unplottable. It's not like I can send an owl."

"Just go see her parents. They're Muggles that know all about magic, so there is no problem to Apparate right into their bedroom."

"Ok, so will you go to the ministry and get…" Narcissa started.

"One step ahead of you darling," Lucius said, and reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a slip of parchment. "Here is the Granger address, and they conveniently have an Apparition point at their front gate." Lucius smiled and kissed Narcissa, washing away her quizzical look. "Fine," he said. "Winky told me everything, and I knew you would need it. Now get out there and charm those Muggles."

Narcissa smiled, kissed him back, grabbed the parchment from his fingers, and rose from bed to get dressed. She let Lucius enjoy the view of her naked posterior as she walked into her dressing room.

(BREAK)

The slip of parchment said Higher Whitelee, Burnley, Lancashire.

_Hermione's parents are farmers?_ Narcissa thought as she Disapparated from the front landing of the Manor.

She arrived on a footpath near a country lane. As she emerged into an open space, she saw a charming farmhouse nearby. It was small, with a thatched roof, a separate barn, and a modest amount of farmland. It was very well maintained, and as Narcissa thought, pastoral. A charming country lifestyle if one was into that sort of thing. To the left of the house was a vegetable garden and in it, a shirtless worker was planting. Narcissa opened the gate and started down the path to the house.

The man working in the garden looked up and noticed a striking blonde walking down the footpath to the house. She was wearing a fitted skirt, a white blouse and strappy heels, an outfit very out of place in Lancashire. She was also carrying a small parcel under her arm. He put down his spade, dropped his gloves nearby, and walked over to intercept her. "Hello," he called out. "Can I help you?"

Narcissa heard the man call out and stopped. Her wand was in her purse, so she didn't feel threatened by him, but he was muscular, and tanned. His work trousers were just a little large, making Narcissa think that he had been doing some hard labor, and shed some weight recently. As he came closer, Narcissa noticed his face which was attractive, and that he was approximately the same age as she. "I'm looking for the Grangers," Narcissa said. "My name is Mafalda Hopkirk, and I'm here to see them." She said a silent curse to herself, realizing that she should have come up with a better back-story. _Mafalda Hopkirk? Where have I heard that name before?_

"Well hello, Mrs. Hop irk, it is nice to meet you in person. Hermione has told me about you, I'm certainly sorry for the way things turned out. I hope you are doing well. Please excuse my appearance; I wasn't expecting anyone today. I'm Wendell Granger," he said, extending his hand, and then retracting it once noticing how dirty it was.

Narcissa extended her hand, and said, "My pleasure," as she continued to rack her brain about who Mafalda was.

"Please come inside while I clean up. What did you say you were here about again?" Wendell said, smiling genuinely and opening the door for Narcissa.

She entered the quiet cottage and was thinking about an answer, when Wendell turned on her, grabbed both of her hands, and pinned her against the door. She was startled but not very scared. Her wand was out of reach, but she knew some wandless defensive spells that would keep her safe. Still, Wendell was much larger and stronger than she was. He was pressed up against her to keep her still, and she could feel how solid he was.

"I don't know who you really are, but you are not Mafalda Hopkirk. Hermione and I met her at the Ministry when she went to apologize for stealing her identity during the War. She is a very pleasant woman, but she is not nearly as attractive as you. I bet you can pull some magic on an old Muggle like me, but I think I can really hurt you before you turn me into a toad," Wendell said smiling defiantly. "Who are you, and what do you want?"

"Let me go, and I will tell you," Narcissa hissed under the crushing force of him pushing against her.

"Not a chance."

"You're not going to like my answer, but I promise that I won't perform any magic."

"No…" Wendell started, but was cut off in mid-reply as Narcissa brought her knee into his groin. He collapsed to the floor in agony as Narcissa brushed herself off, walked over to the large table in the kitchen, and sat down to wait for him to recover.

It took a few moments for Wendell to be able to breathe regularly again, and even longer for him to join Narcissa at the table.

"Where is Mrs. Granger? I wonder if she would approve of the way you treat visitors?" Narcissa asked, looking at Wendell with a smug grin.

"My wife will never hear about this," Mr. Granger answered, looking straight into Narcissa's eyes.

"Ah, you like keeping secrets, do you?"

"No. She died two years ago. Cancer."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Narcissa said, letting down her guard as she noticed it wasn't anger this man felt, but hurt, and fear. She was a mysterious witch, that had beaten him in his own home, and heaven knows what he was thinking about what she might do to him. She fumbled for where to start her story, when Wendell stood up from the table and went over to the sink.

He poured himself a glass of water and then turned to her. "Ok, you got me. You are this mysterious, beautiful witch that has come to my home, and I've treated you poorly. I apologize, but I'm not from your Wizarding World, and I don't take kindly to people coming unannounced, then lying about who they are. Who are you, and what do you want?"

Narcissa put on a dazzling smile and said, "Oh, you said I was beautiful. How charming. I would like," she paused, "a drink. I suggest you get yourself one too, Mr. Granger. We have some things to discuss. I too am sorry for the way this started, but I am not sure you would have agreed to see me if I asked in advance."

Wendell held out two wine glasses. "Well then, my mysterious beauty. Will it be red or white?"

They talked for hours. Although Wendell knew quite a bit about Draco and his parents, he evidently knew nothing about Hermione being tortured at the Manor by Narcissa's own sister. It was fortunate for Narcissa that he was ignorant of that horror, but tears welled up in her eyes thinking that this poor girl couldn't even share her pain with her parents. She explained her side of the story, how Voldemort's rise to power became an agony to survive, and at the end they were glad that he had been defeated. Most of the Death Eaters realized what a terrible mistake they had made in joining him, but it was certain death to defect.

"War is terrible," Wendell said. "No matter what side you are on."

"Wendell, why do you think your daughter left the Wizarding World?" Narcissa asked.

"It's difficult," he started. "For one thing, after the war, she was a celebrity. She hated that. I think that Ron and Harry enjoyed it, and that disappointed her. When Monica, her mother, was diagnosed with cancer shortly afterwards, Hermione was sure that the Healers could take care of her. They couldn't. They were able to slow the cancer down, but we already knew that it was an inoperable brain tumor, and no spell can really take care of that. Hermione was so sure that magic and potions could help, that when she realized it couldn't, she was crushed. I think that broke her. When her mother passed away a couple of years ago, not one of her school friends came to the funeral, visited, or even sent a letter. Those are no friends, if you ask me." Wendell went to pour another glass, but the bottle was empty again. "Should we open a third?" he asked shakily.

"I'll need some food first," Narcissa replied, laughing. You're not trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me, are you?"

"That's not my way," Wendell responded as he went over to the small refrigerator. "I don't pursue other men's wives."

"But you did call me beautiful," Narcissa flirted.

"Oh yes, you certainly are, Mrs. Malfoy. How about a roast beef sandwich and a salad? I think that is the best I can do," he said, smiling sadly.

Narcissa nodded, and stood to get another bottle of wine. "Do you know why no one came to your wife's funeral, and no one visits Hermione anymore?"

"No," Wendell responded, stopping as he pulled out some plates.

"She went to the Ministry, and made herself Unplottable. That means that no wizard in Britain can find or see her, even if she is standing right in front of them. None of her friends could locate her if they wanted to."

"How do you know this?"

"I overheard her in Bulgaria, the enchantment doesn't work there. I was looking for this package," she gestured to the one in the living room, "and I just happened to be in the same place that she was."

"You didn't talk to her?"

"I thought it best, I was sure that I would scare her. I might still be considered an enemy, and she went out of her way to make sure that 'my kind' can't see her. I was fairly certain, I would have been unwelcome."

Wendell nodded as he was deep in thought. "You were able to find me though, couldn't her friends?"

"I think that they could have, but maybe they respected her wishes. I have another motive." Narcissa watched Wendell make the sandwiches, and could tell that he was concerned for his daughter, and unsure of what to do. "I would like to tell you my proposition. I promise that it will not hurt your daughter, and I will make no further attempts to contact you or her. All I ask is that you pass this package on."

Wendell took their food to the table and drank another sip of wine. "I agree. Whatever it is, I agree. Hermione is miserable, she must be so lonely, I had no idea," he said, his eyes tearing up. "I knew her mother's death was tough on her, I didn't know that she had no one to share her feelings with."

Narcissa reached out and put her hand on his. "We can fix this. You have a lonely, brilliant, misguided daughter," she said, her own eyes tearing up. "I have a lonely, brilliant, hard-headed son. They're perfect for each other."

They both laughed and started to eat as Narcissa explained her plan.

(BREAK)

The FedEx driver rang the buzzer marked _H. Granger_, at Number Ten, Bloomsbury Square. There was no answer. As he waited, a Mrs. Arthur Shelton, age eighty-four, exited the front door.

"Good morning, Winston," the aged widow said as she and her ancient terrier navigated the doorway. "Are you bringing me a parcel?"

"No ma'am," the driver, actually named Charles, answered. "I have one for Miss Granger."

"Humph," the dowager responded as she walked away. "Good luck with her, she's a strange bird."

Charles smiled as he entered the doorway and went up to Hermione's flat. _She might be strange, but she's certainly hot,_ he thought as he leaned the flat box against her doorway and went out the main door; back to his waiting truck.


	9. Chapter 9

The Missing Painting

Chapter 9

In which Draco and Hermione prepare to meet.

A/N- Remember, I don't own any of this, and my only revenue is your review.

"One week! I have one week left!" Hermione shouted to her empty flat as she entered after another long day of staging her show at the museum. It was opening in one week and she felt like there were still so many things to be done. In reality, she had finalized everything the first week, but her panic levels were rising and she was feeling overwhelmed.

She walked over to the hutch in the dining room and opened the doors to look for a bottle of wine. As she looked for a suitable red, she noticed the unopened package that she had placed in there a few weeks ago. The delivery slipped her mind in the early weeks of her show, and now she remembered that she never opened it. She pulled a bottle off the shelf, grabbed the package, and put them both on the table. She got a glass and a corkscrew out of the kitchen, opened the bottle, and sat down as she examined the package. It was rare that her father sent her a package, and she thought that it must be something that made her think of her mother, which is why she didn't open it, and put it out of sight. Pouring the wine into her glass, Hermione reminisced about her mother, and how difficult it was to lose her. She thought that St. Mungo's could help cure her mother's cancer, but when they failed, the seriousness of the situation finally sunk in. In anger, she got the Ministry to approve her Unplottability, and Hermione was determined not to look back. She was very alone at her mother's funeral and nothing much had changed since. Tears welled up in her eyes as she took a drink, trying to forget the pain of losing her mother. After a few more, Hermione was having a good cry about how terrible everything was in her life. Dead mother, no friends, no love interest…she didn't even have a cat. Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, she finally tore into the package and found a small painting of a pastoral scene that just had an empty spot where a subject should have been. Her crying renewed.

"Oh great, my life is so terrible that I get an empty painting to immortalize my failures," she bawled. Hermione's crying continued as she placed the frame on an easel on the table and drained her glass. She put her head down and sobbed.

After a moment, Hermione heard another voice crying. A thought occurred to her as she raised her head_. Wait, this is a magical painting? How did my mother get a magical painting?_ She slowly raised her head to see that the subject in the painting had returned. The young woman was also crying, with her face in her hands. There were a few woodland creatures gathered around looking worried. Hermione said to the painting, "Why are you crying?"

The young woman in the painting kept her hands over her eyes, now looking more like she was playing peek-a-boo, and said, "Because you are crying, it makes me so sad."

Hermione was starting to get annoyed at the little painting making fun of her, and said, "Well cut it out. I don't need any help feeling sad."

"I bet I can cheer you up," the painting proposed, and the girl removed her hands and said, "Boo!"

Hermione recoiled from the painting and cried out in shock at seeing herself in a magical painting that she never posed for. The Hermione in the painting cried out in mock fright, then started laughing.

Hermione admonished the painting, "Why are you laughing?" The laughter was so contagious that she had to smile a little.

The Hermione in the painting answered, "That's just what I do. I'm here to make you feel better. Sure took you enough time to open me up."

"How did my mother get this painting made?"

"Your mother? I've not met your mother, what's she like?"

"She's dead."

"Oh, that's so sad," the Hermione in the painting said, starting to sniffle.

"Cut that out!" Hermione shouted over the sound of the painting's crying. "Where did you come from?"

"It's a long story. I suggest you pour yourself another glass," the painting said with a smile, and a bluebird landed on her shoulder as she started her story.

(Break)

Hours later, Hermione was drunk, but she heard the painting's story and understood. All of Draco's pain, all his Pureblood training, the craziness that his parents put him through because of Voldemort, that did really explain…him. Maybe he was as miserable as she. He did go through a lot of trouble to get this painting made by Viktor's father.

The best that she could figure was that Krasimir Krum created this painting from memory, and added certain enhancements to it through some sort of dark magic. It certainly had the ability to get Hermione to drink more than she should, and it told a very compelling story. Maybe it was created just to get Draco and Hermione together just like it said. The possibility really made Hermione think. She turned the bottle up and saw that it was finally empty, and put it next to the other empty one. If she kept this up, there was no way she was going to be able to stagger into work tomorrow. "I have to go to sleep now. I have work tomorrow."

"Wait," the painting said. "You need to meet with Draco. I can get a message to him, just tell me when."

Hermione paused and thought about the suggestion. Through her hazy thoughts she caught glimpses of remembering Draco in school. He was a complete arse for sure, but there was no denying that he was hot. She snuck glances at him during Potions, and enjoyed watching him in Quidditch matches. He was Ron's polar opposite; smart, ripped and polished. Now really drunk, she said, "Next week, at my museum exhibit opening. I don't have anyone else to take. I guess if it goes horribly, at least I'll be in a public place." Hermione gave the painting the message and then staggered off to bed. "Oh, what did I just agree to?" she said to herself as she fell asleep, still in her clothes.

(Break)

Draco landed in the middle of the Quidditch pitch as his teammates shouted congratulations and gathered around him to celebrate. They had just won a scrimmage match against their other teammates and Draco was overjoyed. The past few weeks had left him feeling like a new man. He was invigorated, strong and healthy. The bags under his eyes were gone, and because of team regulations, he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol. He had a new group of friends that were not clouded by House loyalties, or Pureblood manifestos. They were just teammates. He enjoyed training with the team, and he wished he had been able to pursue a Quidditch career, but he knew that this was only temporary, and he loved every minute of it.

The team went into the locker room, and Draco shucked his Quidditch robes, grabbed a towel, and headed into the showers. He lathered himself up, proud to feel that his old muscle tone was returning. His arms and legs had more definition, and the six-pack that he was so proud of was almost back to its full glory. Everyone on the team was in the shower at once, and soon the place was a steam room, with raucous laughter and off color jokes. The noise was so loud that Draco barely heard the faint pop of his House-elf into the shower room. He turned around and bumped into a soaking wet Winky, covering her eyes and standing right behind him.

"Sorry Master Draco, but Winky needs to speak to you," she said timidly.

"Oi! That's a female House-elf," someone shouted from the far side of the steam. "Get her out of here!"

"Oh, Master Draco," Winky wailed, still covering her eyes and wandering around in small circles, obviously becoming more panicked.

"Merlin's beard," Draco exclaimed, and shut off the water to his showerhead. He grabbed his towel with one hand, Winky's hand with the other, and led her out to the locker room. He finally covered himself with his towel, and took her around the corner to his locker. "What are you doing here, Winky?" he asked.

Winky finally opened her eyes and looked around. Once she knew there was no one nearby, she jumped up on the bench nearest to Draco so that she could be close enough to whisper. Whispering, however, was just a fanciful idea to House-elves, and as usual, her whispers were nearly as loud as her regular speaking voice. "It's Hermione Granger, Master Draco," Winky whispered in a loud, raspy voice. "She's agreed to meet with you."

Draco wouldn't have admitted it, but he came close to fainting at the sound of her name, and sat down hard on the bench next to Winky. He was stunned and could only say, "What?"

"I said," Winky started to repeat in the same ridiculous faux whisper, "its Hermione Grang…"

"I heard that, Winky. Why is she agreeing to meet me? Who set this up? It is completely unexpected, I don't know what to think."

"Lady Malfoy organized it, with the help of your painting, Master Draco. She had Mr. Granger give Hermione a smaller copy of your painting, and the two Hermiones spoke. The painting convinced her to see you. This Saturday night."

"This Saturday night? That is less than a week away! I've got to plan, I have to get something to wear, and I have to come up with something to say…about a hundred apologies I expect!"

"Master Draco," Winky said, holding Draco's arm to get his attention and calm him down. "It will be fine. You are going to meet at her museum exhibit opening. There is nothing you need to do, but be there."

Draco looked into the old House-elf's face and saw her smiling up at him. He relaxed, and realized that he was being given a second chance, because of his mother of all people, and very likely this little House-elf too. If he didn't know better, he thought that his eyes might start watering. He straightened up, and threw down his towel as he started getting dressed, ignoring the noises Winky made out of embarrassment. "I need new clothes and a haircut, Winky. Let's get out of here; we've got things to do." He grabbed up the rest of his belongings, and Winky Disapparated them with a loud crack.

(Break)

Hermione stood outside the Ministry's exits. She remembered waiting here for Mafalda Hopkirk all those years ago, when she, Ron, and Harry were going to break into the ministry to steal Salazar Slytherin's locket. The difference now was that instead of trying to hide from the departing workers, she was hidden from them. Even though she was standing in the middle of the wave of employees, no one could see her, and as they moved close to where she stood, the Unplottability Charm forced them to turn, stumble, or just move away from her so that no one made any contact. She stifled a giggle, but it wouldn't have mattered, no one would have heard a sidesplitting laugh either.

Finally, the one person she was waiting for caught her eye. Mortimer Lightwood, the Minister's Legal Secretary that she met on the flight to Bulgaria, saw her, and smiled. He motioned for her to move out of the crowd of people and off towards the side of the building. As they finally got away from the crowd, he shook her hand warmly.

"Miss Granger, it is a pleasure," the older gentleman said happily. "To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you again?"

"Mr. Lightwood," Hermione began tentatively, "I have a favor to ask."

"Anything you want, my dear."

"I wondered if you would make one Wizard exempt from my Unplottability Charm."

"It is possible, are you sure that is what you want? It will be very difficult to reinstate it once I remove it from them. Is it Harry Potter? I have the form in here somewhere," he said rifling through his briefcase.

"Actually, no. It's Draco Malfoy."

Mr. Lightwood stopped looking in his briefcase, and stared at Hermione. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. I invited him to my museum opening on Saturday," Hermione said defiantly.

"How did you invite him? How could you contact him? I'm not sure that he could read a note from you even if you could find an owl to deliver it. My charm was very thorough," Mr. Lightwood looked stressed, as though he had failed.

"No, nothing like that," Hermione answered, trying to reassure him. "Draco has this enchanted painting of me that he had created in Bulgaria by Viktor Krum's father, and his Mother saw me in Bulgaria, but couldn't get the other painting to me in time so she…"

Mr. Lightwood waved her off as she became more animated. "Fine, fine, just sign here," he said, holding his briefcase out as an impromptu desk and handing her a quill. "This form says that you wish to have your Charm altered, and you agree to have the Ministry make the change. If you want to have it changed back, you must sign a new form within thirty days."

"I hope that I don't have to do that," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"So do I," Mr. Lightwood responded. He took the signed document, and placed it into his briefcase. "Well, best of luck Miss Granger," he said, extending his hand.

Hermione shook it warmly. "Did you just happen to have the one form that I needed to sign in your briefcase? That seems pretty farfetched," she said skeptically.

Mr. Lightwood laughed as he turned to leave, "Miss Granger, I have every form in here. Expect your Charm to be changed first thing in the morning."

Hermione watched him disappear into the crowd and thought to herself, _What in the world am I going to wear?_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

In which Hermione and Draco meet.

A/N: This is the standard disclaimer where I state that I don't own any of the characters or the story. I'm just having fun and trying to keep this chapter from being too long. I'm also continuing it at my own pace, not rushing Draco and Hermione through this story. Just a few chapters left.

"Tell me again. Did she seem excited, or scared? I can't believe we're doing this," Draco said as he pulled another pair of black trousers out from his closet and threw them onto his bed. To say he was nervous would be an understatement. He was panicked. If he were wearing fine dress robes, he would have been in great shape. He had plenty, and they were custom-tailored, dramatic masterpieces. The problem was that they wouldn't do so well at a Muggle museum, so he was stuck trying to find some of his everyday Muggle clothes that he could piece together for a semi-formal event. So far, he had some black trousers, about twelve pair actually, and a white shirt. "Aagh! I have nothing!" he cried out as he walked over to his dresser and sorted through his cufflinks. "Well, what did she say?" he asked again.

"Draco, darling," the painting said soothingly, "everything is going to be fine. I spoke with her, she is excited to meet you, and you two will get along famously, trust me."

"I'm trying to trust you, but I'm worried that I have gone mad. I'm crazy for Hermione Granger, but I haven't seen her in years, in fact, no one has. I am meeting her in a few hours; I have no idea of what to say to her and absolutely nothing to wear. Aha!" Draco cried as he triumphantly pulled out a pair of platinum cufflinks with a green Slytherin crest.

The Hermione in the painting shook her head and said, "If I were you, I would try to remind her of Hogwarts as little as possible. Slytherin cufflinks are a little much."

"You're right," Draco answered and dropped them back into the drawer, exchanging them for a simple golden oval with the Malfoy crest. "Seriously, what am I going to say when I see her?"

"How about, 'Hello Hermione?'" Narcissa said as she entered Draco's room. She smiled and offered the white package she was holding to her son. "I thought you might need some help with the finer points of Muggle fashion, so I picked this out for you. Your father likes the cut of these suits, and I imagine that this should fit you nicely. I had it custom made from your measurements."

Draco opened the box marked _Hugo Boss_ and pulled out a dark, obviously well tailored suit, a black shirt, and matching black tie. "Thank you," Draco said, walking over and embracing his mother, who was a little surprised. "This helps. I was worried that I was going to look foolish. They had nothing in Diagon Alley that was appropriate."

"You just need to know where to look. Next time, try Bond Street," Narcissa said, sitting on the edge of Draco's bed. "Draco, I don't want you to worry about what to say to her tonight," she started. "Hermione agreed to meet with you, and I am sure that was no easy decision. I have no idea how one lifts an Unplottability Charm. She agreed because you mean something to her, so you have that going for you. Just relax, and treat her nicely." Narcissa looked at the Hermione in the painting for a minute, and watched her get up and walk out of frame. She assumed that she had gone to check on the real Hermione and smiled. "Draco, do you feel any different?" Narcissa asked. "Like the Unplottability Charm has been lifted?"

Draco thought as he buttoned the front of his new form-fitting black shirt. "Now that you mention it," he answered, "I have felt different. It's like I can feel her presence. Like I know she is out there, where before, I guess I didn't. Does that make sense?"

Narcissa smiled and nodded her head slightly as she answered. "Actually it does. There is magic out there that is greater than ordinary spells and potions. It works in and around us, even Muggles. When you experience concentrated instances of magic, like the Unplottability Charm, or maybe that magic painting, you find that magic builds up in the background. It is old magic that works independently. I think that some of that old magic is working here, between you and Hermione. I wouldn't be surprised if you both can feel something, and that you'll feel even more when you meet.

(Break)

"It's just nerves, that's all," Hermione said to her reflection in the mirror as she applied more Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. She kept a vial on hand for the rare times that she wanted to go to the trouble of applying it to tame her hair. Normally she wouldn't have for a work event, but the painting told her that Draco had become enthralled with her ever since seeing her at the Yule Ball when they were at Hogwarts, so she thought she would have a little fun and recreate the hairstyle. Besides, it gave her something to take her mind off her nerves. After the last application, she sat back and admired her up-do with a few strands framing her face strategically. Her hair and make-up were complete, but she was still sitting in her robe. She rose and examined the two dresses laid out on her bed. The little black dress was too predictable, and her other choice was a champagne colored one that made her feel so…old. "Aagh! I have nothing," she exclaimed as she walked out of the bedroom towards the kitchen to check that blasted painting again.

"Oooh, don't you look pretty," the Hermione in the painting exclaimed.

"Don't you try and flatter me, where have you been?" Hermione asked.

"Umm, in the other painting of course. It is roomier and more fun. You really should see it sometime. Maybe Draco will invite you back to his place tonight!" The figure in the painting made some rude hip thrusts as she danced around in the tiny frame.

"Right," Hermione said sarcastically. "After all we've been through together, he's just going to forget everything and ask me up to his room to see a painting. Oh yeah, we'll probably fool around a little while we're there. Then I'll have some tea and crumpets with his mother! Don't you see how crazy this is? I cut the entire Wizarding World out of my life, and now I'm letting one person in. Just one, and it is Draco Malfoy of all people. Oh, why am I doing this?" Hermione sighed as she plopped down on her couch.

"Because you need him as much as he needs you," the painting said. "You're both broken and wonderful. You're perfect for each other but have no idea that you are. You agreed to this Hermione, you agreed because you need something real in your life, something real, and I think, magical. Draco is going to be that, trust me."

"God, I hope you're right. Because if you're wrong, this is going to be awful." Hermione looked down at her bare feet and panicked again. "What am I going to do about a dress?"

As if on cue, her door buzzer sounded. Both Hermiones looked over to the intercom, at each other, and then said in unison, "Who could that be?"

Hermione got up from the couch while the painting giggled, and walked over to the buzzer. Before she pressed it, she said, "Hush!" to the little painting and smiled to herself as she spoke through the speaker, "Hi, who is it?"

"I'm looking for Miss Hermione Granger," a woman's voice said in reply.

"Yes, that's me. Can I help you?"

"I have a delivery for you. My name is Miriam and I'm from the Chanel Boutique. It is an important package, and I would like to bring it to you if I may."

_The Chanel Boutique?_ Hermione thought. She'd walked down Bond Street before, but never ventured into any of the upscale shops. "Are you sure that it is for me?" Hermione asked, slightly embarrassed.

"Absolutely miss. It was a very unusual transaction, but it is definitely for you. May I come in?"

Hermione shrugged and pressed the buzzer. She heard the outer door open and glared at the painting to insure that it would behave. Looking through her peephole, Hermione saw a woman about her same age carrying a large shopping bag that clearly said _Chanel_ on the side. She looked well dressed, and very normal. Hermione opened her door and the young woman walked right in, ready for business.

"Ok, my name is Miriam, Miss Granger. How much time do we have?" the woman asked.

"I'm sorry, time for what?" Hermione answered.

"Time before your event?"

Hermione looked at a clock and said, "I need to go in about an hour. How did you know?"

"I've had quite an afternoon, let me tell you," Miriam started as she placed the oversized shopping bag on the floor near the painting. "A woman came into the boutique today, a beautiful blonde woman, and started looking at some fantastic new dressess that just came in. I asked her if I could help. We ended up picking out some beautiful things, and then she told me that she was buying them for someone else, and could I please deliver them personally? I told her that we normally don't do those types of things, and that we could arrange a delivery service. She insisted that I take them personally, and make sure that they get to you before your event tonight. I tried to get your address and she said that she couldn't help me at all, and that I would need to find you myself. Very strange, I tell you, but she made me an offer I couldn't refuse, and here I am. Do you mind if we go somewhere I can hang these things up?" she said, gesturing to her bag.

The little Hermione in the painting was jumping up and down with glee as the real Hermione distracted Miriam so that she wouldn't notice an animated, magical painting right behind her.

"Uh, sure. Right this way, let's go into the bedroom," Hermione said, ushering Miriam away and scowling at the painting. "I'm a little surprised by this, to tell you the truth. I wasn't expecting anything, and I don't know anyone that would be shopping for me at Chanel. Who was she?"

"Well, that is the funny thing, Miss Granger. She said she wanted to remain anonymous and she paid cash, so I don't know," Miriam answered as she started taking boxes out and putting them on the bed. "She was very pleasant, and charming, and she certainly had money. Maybe she was your fairy godmother, because the dresses don't come much better than this," she finished, and opened up the first box.

Hermione was hesitant to accept a gift from a mysterious stranger, until she saw what was inside the largest box, a stunning red silk dress. It was perfect, and it captivated her. "Oh, it's beautiful," she said, unable to stop herself as she took the dress from Miriam and held it up to admire it in the mirror. It was a beautiful deep red, just the right length, with a neckline that would accentuate her cleavage, but not show too much. "May I try it on?" she asked.

"It's yours. Yes, do put it on. Here are the shoes and if they don't fit, I have a few extra…" Miriam was cut off by Hermione's joyful laughter, her snatching the shoes away, and running into the bathroom to try them all on.

Several minutes later, Miriam was all packed up and heading out the door of Hermione's flat. She hugged Hermione goodbye and left. She was happy to have helped out someone like Hermione, and the thousand Pound tip from Hermione's mysterious benefactor didn't hurt either.

(Break)

Well-heeled guests were sipping champagne and congratulating Hermione on her exhibit. Lords and Ladies, who had given large donations just to be able to attend parties, actually enjoyed the art Hermione had chosen for her retrospective of 20th Century European Oil Paintings. Many rich gentlemen pulled their jealous wives over to get a closer look at the beautiful Assistant Director of the European Gallery, and wondered why she wasn't in charge of whatever went on here. More than one man felt a sharp tug on his arm from his date for staring at Hermione too long.

Hermione was immune to all this attention because, although she pretended to pay attention to conversations and congratulations, she was completely focused on the doorway and watching for Draco to enter. She was nervous, and the anticipation was killing her.

Draco was sitting in his car, a black Porsche 911 GT3, staring at the valet who was waiting for him to open the door. _What am I doing here?_ He thought to himself as the valet tapped on the window again. _Pull yourself together man; this is what you've been wanting all along. Just be cool, be respectful, and listen._

"Sir, would you like to leave your car? I can keep it out front for you if you are worried about it," the young man offered helpfully.

Draco took a deep breath, exited the car, and tossed the key to the valet nonchalantly. He steeled himself and called out over his shoulder, "Leave the keys in the ignition in case I have to leave in a hurry." He then walked up to the main entrance of the museum where a large man with a clipboard and headset stood checking people off the list. Draco stood in the short queue with a few couples.

"Good evening sir, may I have your name please?" the man at the door asked when it was his turn.

"The name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," Draco responded, trying to act cool and hide the fact that he was panicked that his name wouldn't be on the list.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, do come in. We've been expecting you," the man said, ushering Draco inside. "If you follow this red carpet, it will lead you to the European Gallery, and everything you are looking for should be in there."

_You don't know how right you are,_ Draco thought as he forced himself to walk, not run, down the carpet.

(Break)

"…and then he said, I wouldn't touch that for ten thousand pounds!" the older gentleman finished, and the small crowd of men all erupted in laughter. They were standing in a huddle around Hermione, all admiring her, and sipping their watered down drinks.

Hermione was bored and slightly disgusted, as they kept invading her personal space. This was the third time she had been cornered and she was beginning to think that wearing such a spectacular dress had been a mistake. _Especially if he's not coming_, she thought.

Draco saw her from across the room. She looked absolutely stunning. He didn't think that she could have been more beautiful than he imagined, but she was. The dress that she was wearing was amazing, and he wanted nothing more than to go to her and take her in his arms. However, now that he was on the edge of actually talking to her, he realized how unworthy he was. She was brilliant, beautiful, successful, and he wondered what she would possibly want with him.

At that moment, Hermione turned her head and saw Draco. She smiled at him and raised her eyebrows in a 'help me' gesture.

Draco realized that this was his moment, and kept his eyes locked with hers as he strode over to the group. He deftly passed through the throng of men, and extended his hands as he said, "Hermione, I'm so sorry that I'm late." He kissed her on the cheek in greeting as their hands came together.

The men realized that Hermione was taken and reluctantly dispersed. However, Hermione and Draco did not move. There was something about their touch that was so…magical. They were frozen together, just touching. It didn't seem awkward at all. In fact, it felt perfect. Draco took in her smell, cinnamon and roses, and he remembered sitting next to her in Potions class all those years ago. Hermione was snuggled into Draco's neck as she held his hands, and she felt so comfortable, so safe. They both came to at the same instant.

"Hello," Hermione said, still holding Draco's hands.

"Hello," Draco answered. "It's good to see you again. Thank you for inviting me."

"You're welcome. I was a little nervous, but I feel much better now."

"I do too. It's weird, but I feel so…"

"Comfortable," they said simultaneously and laughed.

Draco and Hermione held hands as they walked over to the drinks table.

"So, how have you been?" Draco asked as they waited in the queue for drinks.

"Good. Busy with work, but I'm finished with this project at least. I'm really glad you came," Hermione said, leaning over and whispering in Draco's ear. "This dress has been getting a lot of attention, and I'm glad you rescued me."

"Hermione," Draco said, gently squeezing her hand. "It's not the dress, it's you. You look amazing. Listen, thanks for letting me in, there are so many things I want to apologize…"

"Shh," Hermione said, putting a single finger up to his lips. "No apologies." She turned to the bartender and ordered another glass of white wine.

"I'll have a Coke," Draco said.

"A Coke?" Hermione joked. "That's surprising."

"How so?"

"I guess I thought you wouldn't know what a Coke is."

"Hermione, there is a lot about me that you don't know. I'd like the chance to show you that I am not the same person I was. Hopefully I'm better," Draco said, smiling and taking his drink and her hand again, and lead them to the edge of the room where they could talk freely. "I know about Muggles, I've spent a lot of time among them since the trials ended. I know about Coke, cars, and I even brought Muggle money to take you out to dinner, if you'll go." Draco was surprised at how easily it was to speak from the heart to Hermione. He could feel what his mother had been talking about, there was some old magic working here.

"I would like that. I'd like to see you drive a car, and your Muggle suit is very handsome," she said, pulling on the hand she was holding to get a good look at him. She was amazed at how easy it was being with Draco. There was no more fear or worry, being with him just felt right. It was like a piece of her life had just fallen into place.

"Thanks. I'm a little embarrassed to say that my mother picked it out for me from a fancy shop on Bond Street. I realized too late that I didn't have the right Muggle suit for tonight, and dress robes would have looked a little out of place. But truly Hermione, you look wonderful," Draco said, pulling her gently towards him, and looking into her eyes.

"Bond Street?" Hermione mused, smiling. "By any chance would your mother be described as blonde, beautiful, pleasant, and charming?"

"Maybe, why?" Draco asked, as Hermione came even closer on her own.

"Well, a mysterious woman fitting that description purchased this dress, and asked one of the clerks to make sure that it was delivered personally this afternoon."

"My mother does have good taste," Draco said, letting go of Hermione's hand and placing his at the small of her back while he brought her still closer.

"Mmm-hmm," Hermione agreed as their lips met for the first time.

(Break)

Draco held the door while Hermione sat in the passenger seat. As she sat in the low-slung sports car, her dress slid up dangerously. She caught Draco staring appreciatively and smiled to herself. Draco walked to the other side of his car and took a deep breath of the night air, trying to relax. The old magic was getting to him, and it was hard to keep his hands off Hermione. That first kiss sent a strong tingling sensation straight to his core, and he imagined that Hermione felt the same.

"This is a nice car," Hermione said as Draco sat down. "Did you drive it here from Malfoy Manor?"

"No, I keep it in a garage in Kensington. They take good care of it, and don't ask questions. I have some basic shield charms on it, so I don't have to worry about anyone damaging it." Draco put the car into first and his left hand brushed up against Hermione's knee. He felt that same tingling sensation, and looked to see if she felt it too. The way she stared straight ahead and swallowed very noticeably made him sure that she felt it too. "Speaking of Kensington, there is a nice little place just off the High Street. Would that be good?" Draco reached out to touch her hand while stopped at a light. "We could go somewhere fancier if you'd like."

"That sounds great. I'd like somewhere that we could sit and talk," she answered, squeezing his hand in return.

After a few minutes, Draco pulled into a nondescript doorway just off of Kensington Church Street and hit a remote on his visor. The door opened quickly and shut behind him as he entered. It was a nice garage, filled with impressive Rolls, Bentley, and Aston Martin cars. Draco pulled into a space and got out to open the door for Hermione. They walked to the exit, passing a very old, white haired man who was dressed in a conservative gray suit.

"Evening, Mr. Malfoy," the man said.

Hermione eyed the man, checking to see if he could see her or not.

"Charles, this is an old friend of mine," Draco said. "I'd like to introduce you to Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is Charles Dowling. He is in charge of everything here."

Hermione smiled warmly at the man and shook hands with him. "Pleased to meet you," she said, impressed that Draco was on such gracious terms with a Muggle. He actually had manners, and his mother was even described as pleasant and charming. _Things have changed since I've been gone_, she thought.

"The pleasure's all mine miss," Charles responded as he opened the outside door for the couple. "Have a nice night," he added.

They walked down the street, quietly holding hands like it was the most normal thing in the world for Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy to be doing. They were both enjoying the feeling of holding hands, and didn't want to let go.

"Draco," Hermione started. "It's really impressive, how you've…"

"How I've changed?" Draco asked as Hermione nodded in agreement. "How I could treat a Muggle with respect, when you remember a spoiled, Pureblood Wizard brat?" They walked a little further before Draco continued, "When my parents and I were tried and sentenced to Azkaban after the War, we lost everything. Our property, our good family name as well as our belief structure. We thought we were the top of Wizarding society at one time, and then we were lower than anyone, human or otherwise, could be. That is a life-changing experience. We left Wizarding society. We starting trying Muggle restaurants, stores, resorts, you name it. They saw us as a little odd at first, but we began to blend in and even made friends. We couldn't invite them over for dinner or anything, but we connected with people on a different level than we had before. I think it made us better." Draco stopped in front of a doorway and took both of Hermione's hands. It was a mild April night, and she was wearing a light wool coat that kept her warm, but Draco felt the need to pull her close just the same. As he brought her toe-to-toe with him, he said very sincerely, "I'm sorry for everything. I promise that I will never, ever treat you poorly again."

For the second time that night, their lips met. This time it was Hermione that pulled Draco towards her. This kiss was more passionate than the first, and they both were completely engulfed in each other. Their bodies resonated with the touch, and their kiss became more and more powerful until they were forced to separate by fear of not knowing what they might do next on this public street. Draco then steered Hermione towards a rustic door at the end of a cul-de-sac, and they entered a charming, and bustling restaurant.

The crowd was slightly overwhelming, and they each knew that it was too loud and lively for the intimacy they were craving.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy!" a friendly looking woman cried out as she navigated the crowd to reach the couple. "A table for two? I'm so sorry; it might be a few minutes. I don't know what happened; we just got so busy about an hour ago."

"Just one minute, Maggie," Draco said as he leaned over to whisper in Hermione's ear. "This isn't really what I had in mind. Let's get out of here."

Hermione smiled and nodded, Draco thanked the hostess and opened the door for Hermione. Once outside in the quiet street, they laughed.

"I'm sorry about that, it is usually quiet," Draco said, thinking that it was usually a very relaxed place, but tonight it seemed they were hosting a rugby team. If he didn't know better, he would think that something didn't want them eating there. "I'm not so sure where else we could go around here, since it is getting late. I should have had a backup plan," Draco said earnestly. "I don't want to treat you to fast food on our first date."

"I would invite you to my flat, but I might only have one cup of noodles," Hermione said, laughing at their predicament as they walked back down the sidewalk.

"Well, here's a thought. We could go back to my place. When's the last time that you had a home cooked meal made by a House-elf?"

"It's been a long time, but I don't know about the House-elf thing. You know how I feel about…"

This time it was Draco that stopped her by pressing his finger to her lips. "I do remember how you felt about House-elves, and how you started S.P.E.W. in school. I remember everything you did, Hermione. I watched you all the time. I was angry back then; angry about how different we were, and so alike. How much I wanted you, but couldn't talk to you and how I wanted to put all of my Pureblood ideals behind me, just so that you would notice me, but I couldn't."

Hermione moved into Draco and put her arms around him as he continued.

"We haven't had a family House-elf in years. The ones that help us are free, and have agreed to be there. We treat them respectfully, and they take good care of us in return."

Hermione felt tears well up in her eyes, as she reached up to kiss Draco for the third time that evening. It was soft, and full of emotion. Hermione felt so connected to Draco, like he had grown into the idea of her perfect man, and she just wanted to feel his warmth, and hold him close. They say that the third time's the charm, and this third kiss was the one that made her trust him.

"Let's go," Hermione said breathlessly when their lips separated. "Maybe I can see the larger painting after all."

"You're ok with me Apparating us to the Manor? Are you sure?"

"Draco, that was a long time ago. The Manor is just a building. Bellatrix scared me, the building didn't."

Draco smiled, and put his arm around Hermione as they Disapparated from the deserted street.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

In which Draco and Hermione get naked.

A/N I don't own these characters and I am just writing this for fun.

The dark, looming shape of Malfoy Manor sat securely behind the high walls that protected it from the outside world. There were few lights visible from outside, and only a handful of torches lit on the drive that led from the gates to the Manor's entryway. The stillness of the night was broken by a loud crack that signaled Draco's Apparition. He and Hermione arrived just outside the giant iron gates. Draco continued to hold her hand as he waved his wand at the tall black gates and walked straight through them. Hermione flinched as they walked through, not feeling metal, but only a fine mist as they passed through.

"I wasn't expecting that," she said, laughing nervously. She looked over the dark grounds to her left and right. There were ornately pruned topiaries among the flower beds, but in the dark, moonless night, they took on sinister shapes. Hermione started getting spooked, and held Draco's hand tighter.

"Is this ok?" Draco asked. "I don't want you to…"

"I'm fine," Hermione interrupted dismissively. "It's just spooky."

"Did you just say, 'spooky'?" Draco asked with a laugh.

Hermione laughed in spite of herself, "Stop it, I know it sounds silly."

Just then, a laughing Draco and Hermione stepped on the Manor's first step. It was her first contact with the Manor since she had been a prisoner, and there was a tremor that shook the Manor from the foundation to the roof. Not like an earthquake, but a _release_. It was as if the Manor had just cast off the decades of anguish, death, and terror with the return of Hermione and Draco laughing and holding hands. Their return had exorcized its evil past. The tremor caused the pair to freeze.

"What was that?" Hermione asked.

"I have no idea," Draco responded.

The front door of the Manor was flung open by a wide-eyed House-elf, who squealed with joy when she saw Hermione standing there.

"Oh! Miss Hermione! You are here, you are here!" Winky clapped her hands together in glee as Draco tried unsuccessfully to quiet her. "I could feel it when you arrived!"

"Winky, hush," Draco admonished. "I just brought Hermione here for a quiet dinner; I don't want mother and father to know she is here."

Winky quickly clasped her hands over the wide grin on her face, but couldn't stop laughing with joy. She motioned for them to come in, and to follow her to the kitchen. As they walked down the hallway, House-elves popped their heads around corners to take a look at Hermione. They knew about the last time she was here, and how terrible that had been. They also felt the abrupt change in the Manor when she returned.

Moments ago, the Manor was still hanging onto its dark, gloomy nature; but as soon as Hermione and Draco put their feet on the front step, the hallways and rooms inside the Manor brightened. The tremor that Draco and Hermione felt from the outside was more like an exhale to the occupants inside.

"What was that?" Narcissa said to her husband, who was reading the Daily Prophet in bed beside her.

"I have no idea," Lucius responded. "Winky!" he called out.

There was no response.

Beginning to feel some unease at the lack of an instant reply, he hissed her name out again, "Winky!"

"Lucius, do you think something happened?" Narcissa said, trying not to sound too concerned.

"I'll go check," he said, getting out of bed and putting on his robe. He started towards the door, then turned around and retrieved his wand from the inside of his cane. He put it inside his pocket, and with a silent hand gesture, instructed his wife to stay put.

Lucius left his dressing chamber with his long, white robe billowing out behind him. He had neglected to tie it in his haste to leave, and as he walked quickly down the hall towards the kitchen, it fluttered behind him, revealing the fact that all he had on was a pair of striped boxers. It was this long blond-haired, boxer clad man that entered the kitchen while Draco and Hermione were having a glass of wine.

"Draco, what is going on here?" Lucius demanded as he surveyed the kitchen. He could see that Draco was sitting at the kitchen table, alone, and Winky was making a late dinner.

"Just getting a little something to eat, nothing to worry about," Draco answered, mortified that his father was standing in front of Hermione in nothing but an open robe and underwear. Of course, Lucius couldn't tell that Hermione was in the room, because of her Unplottability, and Draco tried very hard not to laugh along with Hermione as she stared unnoticed at Lucius. "Why don't you go back to bed, and we'll talk tomorrow," Draco urged.

"Your mother and I, we felt something a few moments ago," Lucius said. He turned back to the House-elf and said, "Winky, what happened?"

Winky turned slowly away from cooking the salmon with braised fennel, and said in an uncharacteristically somber tone, "Tonight, the Manor changed. It is no longer a house of darkness. It is a house of light." She then turned around and smiled to herself.

After that unusual statement, Lucius stared at Winky for a moment, and then at Draco, who seemed to be lost in thought. He looked back at Winky, and then frowned. "Fine, good night. We will discuss this tomorrow," he said uncertainly. He was confused about what was going on, but he was sure there was no threat. Maybe the Manor did feel a little lighter to him, but Hermione's Unplottability Charm was confusing him and also gently pushing him out of the room and back to bed. He could think about it all in the morning.

As Lucius retreated towards his bedroom, Hermione and Draco shared another laugh. It was the first time she had seen the elder Malfoy as a man, rather than an imposing lieutenant for Voldemort, and that realization made her relax.

"Winky," Hermione started, "why are you able to see me and wizards like Lucius can't? The Unplottability Charm was only lifted for Draco."

Winky turned with a smile and said, "Those Charms do not work on all magical beings. I, and other House-elves could always see you, but we knew that we were not _supposed_ to see. So we did not."

Draco became flustered and said, "You mean I could have just asked you to take a message to her years ago?"

Hermione looked at Draco and smiled. She liked to know that Draco had wanted to talk to her for some time. The fact that he had been thinking about her for years made her like him even more. She moved closer to him, and continued to hold his hand.

"You could have asked, yes," Winky said as she brought two heaping plates of delicious food to the table. "But I would not have been able to take it to her, because I was not supposed to."

Draco shook his head as he and Hermione tucked in to the delicious food. After a few bites, he put his fork down and turned to her. "Hermione, I'm sorry that I didn't make up to you earlier. We could have had more time together. After being with you tonight, I realize that this is what I have been missing."

Hermione met Draco's eyes as she put down her fork and took both of his hands in hers. "I'm the one that should apologize. I was angry when I asked to be made Unplottable. Not only have I missed out being with my old friends, I've evidently missed out on making new ones."

"I'd like for you to think of me as more than just a friend."

"I think that you have certainly crossed over," Hermione said, and leaned in to kiss Draco again. This kiss was even more dangerous than the one they shared on the street earlier in the evening. They were sitting next to each other in the now vacant kitchen, Winky knowing exactly when to leave, and there was no reason to stop. The kissing continued for several minutes and increased in fervor, until Hermione found herself in Draco's lap, straddling him and enjoying the feeling of his muscular body pressing up against her. "Draco, what are we doing?" Hermione asked breathlessly as she finally came up for air.

"I'm not sure, but I really like it," Draco answered before he reclaimed her mouth with his.

After a few moments, Hermione pulled away again and said, "Didn't you say that the painting is in your room?"

Draco smile betrayed his excitement as he answered, "Yes, it is in my room, my private room, with a door that locks. Would you like to see it?"

Hermione kissed him again as she got up from his lap and pulled him out of his chair. She appreciated his apparent physical excitement as he stood up in his fitted trousers. "Oh, yes, I would like to see it," she said as she quirked her eyebrows seductively.

(Break)

The door to Draco's room burst open and two entwined bodies spun through like a whirlwind, spinning off articles of clothing while still maintaining physical contact. Draco's new suit ended up on the floor in a heap and Hermione's beautiful dress at least made it to the back of a chair. They fell together on the bed, Draco clad in only his black silk boxers, and Hermione in her black La Perla matched set. Hands roamed over exposed skin and they couldn't have pressed their bodies together any tighter.

The Hermione in the painting sat on her tree stump, this time holding a small garden snake in her hands that slithered through her fingertips. She was blushing as she intently watched the couple on the bed; but she was also smiling as she knew that her purpose was being served. She was created to bring these two together, to have them find happiness in each other and to start a family. She knew that there was no way Hermione would be able to avoid getting pregnant tonight. The painting knew that old magic was used to create her, and old magic was at work between Draco and the real Hermione. The Manor responded to the magical field that Draco and Hermione created, and that energy was now flowing throughout the house. She was just watching and enjoying.

"Are you sure this is ok?" Draco broke away and asked as he removed the last bit of fabric from Hermione's body.

"I've never been as sure of anything before," she answered, her body shuddering from the emotions and hormones pumping through her system. She grabbed Draco's shoulders and pinned him to the bed as she straddled him. The air was humming with magic, but Hermione and Draco were too mesmerized by each other to notice. Hermione whispered a Contraceptive Charm that didn't stand a chance, as Draco smiled and ran his hands down her bare back to settle on the curve of her hips.

The Hermione in the painting covered her eyes, and then peeked through her fingers as the real Hermione slowly slid her body down to engulf Draco. All three of them sighed simultaneously as Draco filled her completely. The magic in the air was almost strong enough to create sparks, but Draco and Hermione had locked eyes and were oblivious to any change in their surroundings.

At the opposite end of the Manor, Narcissa and Lucius were also oblivious to the magic that swirled around the Manor as they lay naked and entwined, fully enjoying the feel of each other's skin. Lucius was on top of Narcissa, their bodies moving in rhythm, and their eyes locked with each other as their ragged breathing becoming louder and louder.

If there had been anyone within sight of the Manor, they would have been treated to a dramatic light show, as if the Northern Lights had been captured inside the ancient, stately mansion. The house shook, lights flashed, and the House-elves laughed with glee as their home was transformed from a building filled with fear, to a home filled with love.

As both couples reached their simultaneous climaxes, the magic field that had been coursing through the estate died away. The magic now had focused itself in each woman's womb; starting a new life that each of them was blissfully unaware of. After they disentangled themselves from their respective lovers, Hermione and Narcissa each lay back in their beds, their naked bodies covered with a fine sheen of sweat, and thought, "I'm hungry."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

In which Narcissa gives Hermione a message.

A/N: I am just writing this for fun, I don't own anything.

It was late morning when the shafts of bright Spring sunlight finally woke Hermione. For a second, she couldn't remember where she was, coming out of such a deep sleep, but when she felt an arm move across her naked midsection, the night before came flooding back to her. Hermione was amazed at how comfortable and natural lying here with Draco felt. She expected to have regrets, or at least reservations about last night, but she didn't, and that realization stunned her. _Things have certainly changed_, Hermione thought as she looked at the sleeping form of the man next to her. He was beautiful, kind, and crazy about her. _What other changes have I missed?_

Draco sensed her waking, and pulled her closer to him. "Mmm, don't get up," he said groggily. "Stay here all day."

She rolled over into his arms and felt the warm length of his naked body against her. "I'd like to stay," she started, "but I need to get up."

"Why?" Draco asked as he pulled her tighter.

"First, I didn't intend to stay over," she said, kissing his neck.

"Oh, I'm glad you did," Draco drawled. "That was the greatest night of my life." He kissed her in return and started caressing the small of her back.

Hermione felt his arousal pressing against her and blushed. "How many times can you have sex in one day?" she asked playfully. "I lost count last night."

"You lost count? I lost consciousness."

Hermione laughed and pushed herself away. "The other reason is that I need to use the loo." She pulled the comforter around her as she got off the bed and made her way across the room.

"Do you want some breakfast?" Draco called out a few moments later as he dressed.

"Actually, I'm starving," Hermione said as she exited the bathroom wearing Draco's fluffy white robe. "Do you mind if I wear this? I guess no one but the House-elves will see me."

Draco approached her, playfully trying to untie the robe, but she pulled away, laughing.

"Fine, wear something if you must," Draco said as he turned towards the door. "Oh, I almost forgot to show you the painting."

They both turned to the painting that took up most of one wall above the fireplace. They had completely forgotten about it the night before, which seemed strange given the connection they both had with the painting. They would have expected the painting to be jumping up and down, or dancing, but now it seemed quite different.

"That's weird," Draco said, looking at the painting. "I've never seen her sleep before. She's usually so…"

"Alive?" Hermione ventured. "I imagine there was a lot to see last night," she said, blushing, "and maybe she's just resting, but I think it might be something more."

"What do you mean?"

"She told me that she was created for a purpose. I mean, she did convince me to see you, and she kept you, well, interested in me. Maybe now that we've met, her job is finished. Mr. Krum certainly put some kind of magic in that painting, it made you want to find me," Hermione ventured.

"Listen, Hermione," Draco said, grabbing her hands, "you are what captivated me in school, and it is _you_ that I want. This isn't a schoolboy crush, this is…real. I wasn't tricked by a painting or coerced into liking you. I have been crazy about you for years, and I consider myself the luckiest man on earth to have finally found you. I'm not going to let you out of my sight again."

Hermione blushed, and kissed Draco as they walked out of his room together.

(Break)

Narcissa awoke late the next morning. She was surprised to feel so hungry, since she usually ate so little to keep herself fit and trim. This morning was different, she really needed some food right away. Lucius was still sleeping, they had certainly been up late the night before, so calling for Winky might wake him up, and she wanted him to get his rest. She slipped out of bed, silently put on her robe and slippers, and snuck out of the room.

When she entered the hallway, she noticed an unfamiliar scent…someone else's perfume. A light touch of cinnamon and rose. Narcissa surmised that a female visitor was in the manor, and that it must be Hermione and she must have spent the night with Draco. _They work fast,_ she thought. Narcissa quickened her pace toward the kitchen where she heard Draco's voice.

Narcissa slowed as she neared the kitchen door. She peered around the corner and saw only Draco, who was at the stove, cooking something. Not only was _that_ unusual, he was laughing like he was talking to someone, but there was no one else visible. _Visible_, Narcissa thought, _Hermione wouldn't be visible to me because of the Unplottability Charm, so she is here, and if I get too close, it will affect me._ Narcissa made her plan, tightened her robe, and strolled purposefully into the room, acting nonchalant as she made her way across the floor. She planned on being regal as she entered, but what she didn't plan on was being driven wild with hunger at the smell of the sausages that Draco was frying. Like a moth to a flame, Narcissa walked right up to the stove and stood behind her son, staring at the food.

"Mother, good morning," Draco said, startled that his mother had snuck up behind him. He knew that she couldn't see Hermione standing on his left, but having two women salivating at his attempt on cooking was a little disconcerting. "Would you like some sausages?" he asked as Narcissa grabbed an empty plate.

Hermione laughed aloud as she and Narcissa sat on opposite side of the giant kitchen table, eating sausage after sausage, followed by eggs, toast, and coffee. She was sure that Narcissa couldn't see her, or that the food was moving onto Hermione's plate. Hermione tried making noises or waving silverware around, but Narcissa couldn't see any of it. She finally relaxed and really began to tuck in. Draco became so overwhelmed by the constant requests for food that he had to call for Winky to take over. He now sat at the head of the table drinking from a warm mug as his mother started talking.

"Draco, I know that Hermione is here," Narcissa said suddenly.

Hermione dropped her fork, and Draco froze.

"Don't worry, I can't see her, but I know she is here just the same. I want to say, that I am happy that the two of you were able to meet at last."

"Is she serious?" Hermione asked.

"Thank you," Draco said, smiling at the outburst from Hermione. "She is really special, mother, and I appreciate all that you did to bring us together."

"Draco, your happiness is what is most important to me. From what I have learned, Hermione is a remarkable young woman, and I hope that she makes you happy. Should I assume that now you are happy, Draco?"

Draco grasped Hermione's hand underneath the table as he said, "I've never been happier."

Hermione squeezed his hand in return.

"There is one thing I would like Hermione to know though," Narcissa said, choosing her words carefully so that she wouldn't be repelled by the Unplottability Charm that still surrounded Hermione. "I spoke with Mr. Granger, a charming man, and he told me some of the reasons that Hermione may have had to drop out of the Wizarding World. My guess is that now that she has met you, and sees the changes that you have been through, she might want to make other connections with her old friends."

Draco watched Hermione as she looked down at the table, deep in thought. He knew that his mother was, once again, right on target.

Narcissa continued, "I also know how daunting it can be for someone to return to society when there are so many questions to answer. It is scary. However, as someone that has spent the past several years rebuilding their life, I would like to remind Hermione that there are many people that would be almost as happy as you to see her again. I am sure that they would be excited to help her rejoin the Wizarding World, if she would just let them."

"She's right, you know," Hermione said as she looked at Draco. "I should lift this charm completely." She stood and tightened her robe. "Will you help me?"

Draco stood up instantly, and his mother saw his look of resolve, and action, and knew that her speech had worked.

"Absolutely," Draco said, and took her hand and led her from the kitchen.

They both walked down the hallway towards the family library. It was a massive room with floor to ceiling books. Hermione was thrilled as she looked over the titles as she walked past. _Moste Potente Potions_ by Phineas Bourne, and _Hogwarts, A History_ by Bathilda Bagshot were two that she recognized. _Secrets of Darkest Magic_ by Armand Malfoy, was one that concerned her.

In the center of the library was a long desk, and it was to this that Draco escorted her.

"Here is some parchment and a quill. I thought that you could send that man at the Ministry a note, and ask him to remove the Unplottability Charm completely."

"I can't get an owl to send it to him, but oh, you can," Hermione said, realizing that Draco was already a step ahead of her. He was sharp.

"Just make out your letter, and I'll do the rest," Draco said, pulling out the chair for her.

A few minutes later, Draco's eagle owl was out the window, in search of Mortimer Lightwood.

"Draco, would you like to see my flat?" Hermione asked, as she walked over to the library shelves to peruse the titles.

"I would love to," Draco said. "But why don't you pick out a few books to take with us?"

Hermione ran back to Draco and hugged him tightly as she looked up into his eyes, "You are perfect, you know that?"

(Break)

Narcissa finally felt full as she pushed back from the table. Lucius entered the room to see the uncharacteristic wreckage of plates in front of his wife, who usually ate like a bird.

"Darling, are you feeling alright?" Lucius asked as he planted a kiss on her cheek.

"I don't know, I was just so hungry this morning. I can't believe that I ate this much."

Winky started gathering the plates from in front of Narcissa and said matter-of-factly, "That is because you are now eating for two."

Narcissa and Lucius both froze for a moment, then looked at Winky. Each had their left eyebrow quirked up in an 'are you serious' look.

Winky picked up the last plate, looked at the couple and said, "Congratulations."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

In which Hermione returns to Diagon Alley.

_A/N: I don't own any of this stuff. Thanks for the review pointing out that I put the Three Broomsticks in Diagon Alley. It gave me a chance to make a new pub called the Four Broomsticks, where the Malfoy's get a chance to make amends to people Draco screwed over in his school years._

Hermione put the key in the door of her flat in Number Ten, Bloomsbury Square, and then turned around to face Draco before entering. "For the record, this is no manor," she said with a smile. As she opened the door, her nosy, ancient neighbor, Mrs. Shelton appeared, just as she always did whenever Hermione was about. This time, she had her King George Spaniel trotting regally ahead of her.

"My, my," the old crone said to herself in a not-too-quiet voice as she walked past, "entertaining so many gentlemen, how shameful."

Hermione exclaimed, "I do not entertain gentlemen!" as she glared at the old woman's back.

Draco laughed aloud, "Hey, I'm not a gentleman?"

Hermione closed the door as they entered her living room. "That old woman is horrible! Her mission is only to embarrass me."

"Do you have a lot of gentlemen callers?" Draco asked over his shoulder as he walked into her kitchen. He had been quietly checking out Hermione's flat since they walked around the corner from an Apparition point in the car park underneath the adjacent garden. There were no signs of other magical people, no wards, no magic of any kind. Typically, Draco could feel when he was around magic. It had comforted him at home, Hogwarts was filled with magic; and many of the Muggle areas of London had some magical fields around them, whether for protection, or to hide something, like the Ministry building. Here, there was nothing. Hermione had managed to find an area of London that was devoid of magic, and her flat was no exception. She didn't have any pets, he hadn't seen her wand, and there were no magical photographs. The only magical painting was the smaller version of the one in his room, and it was empty. There seemed to be no magical conveniences in the kitchen either. _When she said she left the Wizarding World, she wasn't kidding,_ Draco thought.

"Can I get you something to drink," Hermione asked as she walked up behind him. It was so obvious that he was looking around for something magical that she had to laugh to herself. "I'm afraid I don't have any Pumpkin Juice."

Draco wheeled around when he realized that she was on to him, and said, "You really live without any magic, don't you?"

She laughed as she pulled two mugs out of the cabinet, and turned on her electric kettle. "It must be quite a shock for you, being in a home without magic. I could show you some Muggle wonders, like television, a computer, or maybe a ball-point pen?"

At this teasing, and Hermione's laughter, Draco easily hoisted her up and tossed her over his shoulder, as though she weighed nothing. He walked them out of the kitchen, ignoring her laughter, and the cries to put her down. "Where is your bedroom?" he demanded.

"Why, would you like to learn about an alarm clock with a radio in it?" Hermione's laughter increased as she was carried into her bedroom and unceremoniously dropped on her bed.

"Listen here," Draco said, trying to keep a straight face as Hermione's laugh was very infectious. "I know quite a bit about the Muggle world, and your fancy electronics. I also know that the Wizarding World has some wonderful things to offer," he said, now dramatically brandishing his wand, and using it to close all the drapes in the room. "_Incendio_," Draco whispered, as he set the bedside candles alight.

"Oooh, fancy!" Hermione teased.

"First thing tomorrow, I am taking you to Diagon Alley. You need to stock up on some magical supplies now that you are entering the Wizarding World again. I am sure that everyone you know will want to talk with you, and this might be the last time I have you all to myself," Draco said as he pulled the tight black t-shirt over his head.

Hermione soaked up the image before her. He was beautiful, with his muscular torso and white-blond hair. Seeing him standing half-naked at the foot of her bed gave her a thrill that weeks ago she couldn't have imagined. She moved to the foot of the bed to meet him, and pulled him down for a kiss.

"Only one," Hermione said.

"Only one what?" Draco asked between kisses.

"Other than you, I've only had one other gentleman caller."

"Should we be expecting him?" Draco asked.

"No. He came over drunk and demanding, so I had to Obliviate him," Hermione said with a sly smile.

Draco pulled back for a moment. "So I better watch myself."

"Oh yes you should," Hermione said pulling him down on top of her.

(Break)

Monday morning came and found Draco still camped out at Hermione's flat. Over the past couple of days, they had stayed in, enjoying each other's company and talking. They were sitting at the table enjoying a coffee after a rather hearty breakfast, when they were surprised by an owl tapping at the window.

"Draco, an owl is here."

"Yes?" Draco asked, looking at Hermione in puzzlement.

"No, I mean an OWL is here. No owl has ever been here before!"

"Oh, right," Draco said, getting up to open the window and let the Barn Owl in.

It hopped onto the table, and offered its leg to Hermione. She unwrapped the note, and then made a realization.

"I don't have a Knut to pay him," she said sadly.

The owl pecked her finger.

"Steady," Draco said, holding out a small coin to the Owl, who took it in its beak. "Today's the day we get you back into the Wizarding World," Draco declared as he watched her intently reading the note.

"I guess so," Hermione said, handing him the note. "The Unplottability Charm is officially lifted, though Mr. Lightwood has not told anyone. Thankfully, he is leaving that up to me."

Draco took her hand in his and asked in a serious tone, "Are you ready?"

"Honestly, I don't know. Maybe as ready as I'll ever be," she answered.

"Let's go to Diagon Alley," Draco said, standing up from the table.

"Draco," Hermione hesitantly started, "are you going to be ok going with me to Diagon Alley?"

"What do you mean? Will I be ok with people seeing us together?"

"What about the War, and the trials, and Azkaban? Are you ok with me reconnecting with my old friends in Gryffindor, or in the Order?"

"You mean Potter and Weasley, don't you?"

Hermione nodded.

Draco knelt down in front of her and put his hands on her knees that were peeking out from underneath her fuzzy pink bathrobe. "Listen," he started, looking seriously up into her warm, brown eyes. "I don't have any problems with anyone. I might not be going on vacation with the Potters anytime soon, but we mended our fences a few years ago. When you lose everything; at least everything that you thought was important, like Pureblood status, or being a Slytherin, it gives you a chance to reflect."

Hermione silently reached out, and ran her fingers through his blond mane as he continued.

"I was a real arse in school. I treated people terribly for all the wrong reasons. Potter for picking the wrong side, you for being a Muggle that I could never have, and Longbottom and Weasley for being stupid. Turns out that I was completely wrong on all of those points," Draco paused, smiling weakly. "I recognized that I was wrong and apologized. If you are willing to walk down Diagon Alley with me, it would make me the happiest man in London."

Hermione pulled him to her and gave him a long, passionate kiss. "I need to shower first," Hermione said as she rose and went into the bedroom.

"Correction, we need to shower," Draco called out as he dashed after her.

The Barn Owl hooted after them, eyed their empty plates, then turned and flew out the window into a warm spring morning.

(Break)

Without a Floo in her apartment, Hermione and Draco needed a different way to get to Diagon Alley. Rather than dealing with the trouble to get Draco's car, they decided to take the Circle Line to Aldgate Station, and walk to the Leaky Cauldron. To Hermione's surprise, Draco bought their tickets, and they boarded without incident.

"So, you've done this before?" Hermione asked as they stood together for the few stops, Draco holding onto the loop, and his other one around her waist in the crowded train.

"Loads of times," Draco responded. "I like to take the Tube to concerts and football matches. I like being a part of a big crowd where no one knows you and everyone is having fun."

"I call it crowded," Hermione said. "Too many people invading my personal space."

"Oh like this?" Draco asked as he pulled her into his body. "I quite like invading your personal space."

"Listen mister," Hermione admonished with a smile, "Take it easy. I have to save my energy to face returning…there, I'm getting panicky."

The train stopped at their station and Hermione froze in place. Draco grabbed her hand and led her off the train. As they walked up the stairs, Draco said, "Don't worry too much. Sure, it will be intense, but no one is going to be upset, they'll be ecstatic to see you again."

They walked down a side street and eventually came to the Leaky Cauldron. Muggles passing by took no notice of the couple as they stood in the doorway.

"Don't be so nervous. Just remember your first time here. It is magic, after all," Draco said, as he opened the door.

(Break)

Fifty handshakes and numerous pats on the back later, Hermione and Draco were standing in front of the brick wall that led out to Diagon Alley.

"Do you remember what to do?" Draco asked.

Hermione gave a sideways glance as she pulled her wand out of her jacket pocket. "Three up, two across," she said, tapping the brick and opening the gateway.

Hermione was shocked to see how bright and beautiful Diagon Alley was. Years ago, as the Dark Lord rose to power, his followers had either scared off shop owners or burned them out. The stores remained vacant even after the war ended; people were rebuilding their lives, and the stores could wait. While Hermione had been away, Diagon Alley had been redesigned and rebuilt. She walked down the street marveling at the shop windows, and letting the memories of all the happy times she had spent shopping for books, her wand, and Crookshanks, flood back. She grabbed Draco's hand as tears welled up in her eyes.

"It's marvelous," she whispered to Draco.

They walked unnoticed for a while, Hermione mostly staring in display windows as she wandered down the line of shops. Diagon Alley had been rebuilt after the war, and the boarded up shops that Hermione remembered had now been reopened with dazzling results. Where Weasley's Wizard Wheezes used to be the only dynamic, eye-catching shop, now the new buildings and storefronts were full of bright colors and music. The only store to keep its old visage was Ollivanders Wand Shop. The letters above the door, _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C_., had been repainted in gold lettering. Other than that and a new touch of paint, there was no change to the old store. Draco nodded greetings to the other shoppers as they caught his eye. As people realized who the pair was, they would hurry off and whisper conspiratorially. Draco, not wanting to repeat the hearty welcome they had to put up with in the Leaky Cauldron, ushered Hermione off the street to a familiar location.

"Why don't we get a drink, as we plan our shopping attack?" Draco asked.

"Sorry, what?" Hermione said, peeling her eyes away from an orange kitten in the window of the Magical Menagerie.

"Come on," Draco said, rolling his eyes as he pulled her over to a new pub called the Four Broomsticks.

After Florean Fortescue's death at the hands of the Death Eaters, the old building sat vacant for months, and remained a constant reminder of the War. Rumor had it that a wealthy benefactor encouraged Rosmerta to open up a second location in the space, and rumor also had it that it was the Malfoy family, but Rosmerta would neither confirm nor deny the information. While construction on the new pub began, the Diagon Alley Improvement Board became concerned that a new pub did not serve the community the same way that an Ice Cream Parlor did. Madame Rosmerta shared this concern, and in a few weeks, a new shop appeared, Bell's Ice Cream, owned by Katie Bell and the same mysterious benefactor that helped Rosmerta. When the new pub opened, a new direct Floo connection was established between Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade to enable Rosmerta to spend her time between this new operation and her Inn in Hogsmeade. People found this connection a very efficient means to go back and forth between the two areas, and the economy increased exponentially.

Draco held the door for Hermione as they entered.

"Welcome, young Draco," Madame Rosmerta called out casually as she worked behind the bar. "One Firewhisky coming up. Oh, and I see you brought a young lady…" Madam Rosmerta stopped in mid-pour and stared at Hermione. The Firewhisky spilled over the bar as Rosmerta kept staring.

"Actually, I'll just have a Gillywater please," Draco said with a smile, "and I believe that you know my guest."

Rosmerta put the bottle down and rushed from behind the bar to embrace Hermione in a crushing hug. "Merlin's beard! Hermione Granger as I live and breathe!" She held Hermione at arm's length, "Let me take a look at you."

"Hello, Madame Rosmerta," Hermione said shyly. "It's good to see you again."

"Well, where are Potter and Weasley? Are they on their way?" Rosmerta said, and looked at Draco again. "Wait… you and Draco? Ha! That's a match I never expected."

Draco put his arm around Hermione and said, "Get used to it."

"Rosmerta, I've just now returned from being away. I haven't seen anyone other than Draco before today, and am trying to take things slow. I'll talk to Ron and Harry soon enough, I'm sure."

"Well, make yourselves comfortable and I'll bring some drinks 'round," Rosmerta said, squeezing Hermione's arm and clapping Draco on the back.

"Thank you," Hermione responded as Draco led her to a booth. They settled in, with Hermione's back to the door. "You and Rosmerta," Hermione started, "She's over being angry with you about the Imperious Curse?"

Before Draco could answer, the door to the Four Broomsticks burst open and a loud voice boomed out, "Where is she?"

Draco's eyes widened at the sight of the man that entered the bar. With long, fiery red hair, and a matching beard, George Weasley looked furious as he entered the bar. He caught Draco's eye, and made a beeline to his table. "Oi, Malfoy! Where is Hermione?"

Hermione turned around to face her old friend, and his face instantly changed from a scowl to a giant smile.

"Word on the street is that you were back, Granger," George said, taking her up and into a hug that he held for a long time. "It's good to see you again," he said earnestly as he released her. "I just now heard that you were back and hanging out with this bloke," George exclaimed as he playfully punched Draco on the arm. "What gives?"

"It's a long story," Hermione started, as the three sat down together. "Draco and I found each other and he convinced me to return to the Wizarding World."

"Well, that's certainly the short version isn't it?" George said with a laugh. "I want to hear the whole thing; do I have to wait until Sunday?"

"Sunday?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, we always have dinner at the Burrow on Sunday. I can't see any way that the two of you are going to get out of that," George said with a wide smile. "Once Mum hears you are back, you will be there."

"I was hoping to have a little more time to get ready, George," Hermione pleaded, using her best puppy dog eyes to get George to keep her secret.

"Oh, don't try that with me," George responded. "It's out of my hands, now that everyone knows you're back. Best get ready."

Rosmerta showed up that moment with two Butterbeers and a Gillywater. Hermione brought the mug to her lips, took a drink, and closed her eyes as she tried to relax. The flavor of this familiar drink brought back the memories of her youth, and that cheered her up once again. _Relax, you can get through this,_ she thought to herself as she looked at George and Draco and smiled weakly.

"Ok, Sunday it is," Hermione said, squeezing Draco's hand for comfort.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

In which Hermione goes to the Burrow.

A/N: I claim no ownership of these characters or the story line. I just write for fun, and I want to thank you all for reading along. We are nearing the end.

Draco stepped out of the green flames of the fireplace into his bedroom. _Well, that works_, he thought to himself as he brushed off and went into his closet to pack some clothes. He had spent the past few days helping Hermione with the essentials of Wizarding life. He stocked up on Pumpkin Juice, connected her to the Floo network, and bought her an amazing orange kitten that she named Crookshanks Junior. Draco tried to get her to pick a new name, but the original Crookshanks had been such a loyal and smart companion that she wouldn't have it.

They had been to her father's farm and retrieved her old books and school supplies. She now had the beginnings of a proper Wizard's library, complete with moving photographs. Since she was busy with reading, redecorating her flat, and getting ready for dinner at the Burrow, Draco thought it an opportune time to dash back home and get some of his own supplies. He had been staying at her place for days straight, and needed to get some clothes. Hermione was nervous enough about seeing Ron and Harry for the first time in years, and Draco figured that she might need a little time to herself in order to get ready.

After changing into nice jeans and a blazer, he threw some other things in his bag to take back to Hermione's flat. Now that she was hooked to the Floo, it was much easier to go back and forth. Once he was packed, he walked past the painting on his way out of the bedroom. The Hermione in the painting was gone, just like she had been missing from the one in Hermione's flat. _Oh well, _he thought, _you can't expect them to stick around forever._

"I'm back!" Draco shouted down the long hallway. "Now I'm leaving again," he said in a normal voice as he walked to the main part of the Manor from his room.

Winky appeared at Draco's side as he walked. "Master Draco, your parents would like to speak to you in the sitting room before you leave. I believe that they have some news."

"Ok," Draco answered as he headed off in that direction. _News? I'm the one with news; I'm going to the fucking Burrow for dinner tonight with Hermione. Wait until I tell them,_ he thought.

As he walked in to the sitting room, he noticed the strange smell of cigar smoke. His mother beamed at him from one of the loveseats in the center of the room, and his father entered from the porch, through open French doors that were letting in the springtime air.

"Draco, my son! Have a cigar, it is time to celebrate!" Lucius announced as he clapped his son on the back, and handed him an aromatic Cohiba Lanceros from Cuba.

Draco looked at the cigar in his hand, the wide, unusual smiles on his parents' faces and said, "Should I be sitting down?"

"Lucius, put that thing out, and the two of you come sit next to me," Narcissa said as both of her men complied and joined her. "Draco, your father and I want to share our good news with you. We are going to have a baby!" she announced, beaming.

Lucius and Narcissa hugged their son as he went through the motions of looking happy, but in his head, there was only one thought, _what the fuck?_

"Finally, after all these years, we are having another child. I couldn't be happier son," Lucius said, getting up again and pacing around the room. "We tried for years, and gave up hope long ago. When I found out a few days ago, I jumped for joy. I literally jumped up in the air."

Draco smiled at the thought of his stoic father jumping for joy. "I'm happy for you, really," he said.

"Not just us, but all of us," Narcissa said, putting her hand on her son's. "Draco, you are a wonderful son, and you will be a wonderful big brother. Be excited about that as well."

Draco smiled and said, "It's just that you are so old…" He ducked as his mother took a playful swipe at him. "Seriously, it is going to rock the Wizarding community," Draco thought out loud as he stood up and unwrapped his cigar. "What am I going to say to everyone, to Hermione?"

"You are not going to say anything yet," Lucius announced as he lit their cigars. "Your mother and I just found out and wanted to tell you. You may not tell anyone else yet. Anyone," Lucius finished, giving his son a serious look.

"Fine, I'm happy to keep quiet," Draco said with a smile. He had no idea what he would have said anyway.

(Break)

Hermione looked in the mirror for the hundredth time as she tried to find something else to do. She had been ready for an hour, cleaned up the flat and rearranged it a few times. "Where is he?" she said as she picked up her orange kitten that was batting around a quill that he had procured from her desk. Crookshanks Junior grabbed a piece of her hair that dangled nearby and began to chew it with vigor. "I need him around to calm me down," she said to the kitten as she pulled her hair out of his grip. "I like having him around," she said.

"I like being around," Draco announced as he stepped from the Floo and put his arms around her. "I like you missing me."

"Draco, I'm nervous."

"Nervous about seeing your childhood friends and their parents? Nervous about what you are going to say to them? Nervous about introducing me as your _lover?_" he teased.

"Actually, yes," she said earnestly as she looked up into his eyes. "I am worried about facing Harry and Ron. Especially Ron."

"Listen here," Draco said, holding her close. "Your friends are good people. They want you to be happy, they want to know what they did wrong, and they will want you back in their life. It will be awkward at first, sure, but trust me; it is all going to work out fine. Don't worry about Ron, I'm going to be right beside you the whole time," Draco said, trying to sound confident though he was a little anxious for her. Nevertheless, he was more confident than Hermione was, a fact that made him sure that now was not the time to tell her the news about his mother's pregnancy.

"I hope so," Hermione said, putting her kitten on the ground. She looked over at the fireplace Draco had just used and said, "It's time to go."

"Chin up," Draco said as he led her to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder. Throwing it into the fireplace, he clearly said, "The Burrow!"

(Break)

The living room at the Burrow was full as Draco and Hermione stepped through the Floo. Hermione smiled weakly at the five sets of eyes that were focused on her. Draco stood behind her, supporting her, and gave her a slight nudge forward.

"Oh, Hermione, it is wonderful to see you again," Arthur Weasley said, breaking the ice. "We've missed you so much, thanks for coming to dinner." He embraced her in a warm hug, as he patted Draco on the shoulder with one hand. "Thanks for bringing her, Draco."

"My pleasure sir," Draco said as Hermione turned around to look at him. Draco smiled as though there was nothing strange about being welcomed into the Weasley home.

Molly and Ginny stood up next and embraced Hermione. Harry joined in, but Ron stayed removed. Hermione kept one eye on him as she talked to Harry and Ginny. They had been married for a few years, and were expecting their first child in July. Hermione was genuinely happy for them, but still watching Ron out of the corner of her eye. She was surprised to see Draco walk casually up to Ron and shake his hand. Ron smiled as Draco said something to him. Draco put his hand on Ron's shoulder in a friendly, comforting gesture. They both shared a laugh and then looked at Hermione, who was staring at them with her mouth open.

"What are you two talking about over there?" Hermione said as she approached the suspicious pair.

"I'll leave you two to talk," Draco said diplomatically, as he moved away to speak to Mrs. Weasley.

"Hello Ronald," Hermione said as the two stood together at the edge of the room, with the other dinner guests pretending to ignore them. "I was worried about bringing Draco here, but it seems like the two of you get on pretty well."

"Yeah, he's alright after all," Ron said with a grin as he looked down at his hands nervously. "You been ok? We heard you were back."

"Yes, I'm fine. Nervous but fine."

"What're you nervous about?" Ron asked.

"Well, I've been gone for so long, with no explanations. I thought everyone would be angry with me. Especially you."

"Listen Hermione," Ron started, "I'm not mad at you, and I'm not confused by why you left. I was excited about being famous, and after all that you, Harry, and I had been through, I figured we were due a little recognition. I just didn't know that I would turn out to be such a jerk. I wanted to apologize, but I couldn't find you because of that Unplottability thing. I'm sorry."

"Me too," Harry said, joining the pair. "Hermione, we should have listened to you more. We didn't because we were just as stupid as always," he said with a smile that only Harry could give when he was trying to cheer them up. "I'm sorry to hear about your mother's passing. I wish we could have been there for you."

"I'm the one who should be sorry," Hermione said, pulling her two friends into a group hug. "Can we be friends again?"

"We never stopped," Harry said as a beeping noise sounded.

"What's that?" Hermione asked, looking around for the source of the electronic sound. _This is the Burrow, what could be beeping_, she thought?

"That's me," Ron said, pulling an iPhone out of his pocket and checking his texts. He smiled, tapped a text back, and moved towards the fireplace again.

"Ron has a phone?" Hermione said, stunned. "Who is texting him?"

"His fiancée," Harry answered with a smile.

Hermione froze, then remembered to close her mouth, then remembered she had a voice. "Fiancée? That's great. That's really great," she said with a relieved smile. If Ron had a fiancée, then that meant he had moved on with his life. Her past came flooding back to her as she thought about the last time she saw him. It had been awkward, and Hermione had felt guilty about their breakup for years. It seemed like the right decision at the time, but that didn't make it any less painful.

Hermione had not loved Ron from the first moment that she saw him. He had helped Harry save her life in their first year at Hogwarts, and they had spent all of their time together after that point. She didn't really know how it happened, and she was sure that Ron didn't, but they just fell in love, not with each other, but with what they were. They were part of the Golden Trio, and falling in love and getting married was what they thought they were supposed to do. The problem for Hermione was that while Ron was a caring, realistic, brave companion, he wasn't the love of her life. When she left the Wizarding World, she tried to sit down with Ron and tell him all the reasons why she was leaving, and how she wanted him to know that she wasn't coming back, and that she genuinely wished him well. Ron sat through the discussion barely saying a word, and then he rose and hugged her silently. No words passed between them after that and Hermione left confused. Now she knew that Ron had been listening, he understood even more than she had given him credit for, and had moved on with his life without her. That unexpected realization gave her mood a lift, and washed her worries away. Although her worries were gone, her curiosity was not.

"Do I know her?" Hermione asked Harry quietly.

"Draco didn't tell you any of this?" Harry asked.

"What does Draco know about Ron's love life?'

"Draco set them up."

Just then, the Floo flared to life and Hermione found herself holding her breath in anticipation. Draco had filled her in on the love lives of most of their fellow classmates over the past few days, and many had been married for years; Harry and Ginny, Neville and Luna, George and Angelina Johnson, even Katie Bell and Marcus Flint. Never once did he mention Ron Weasley, and the fact that he set him up with someone. Her eyes scanned the room and found Draco coming out of the kitchen with Mrs. Weasley. He was drying his hands with a cloth and smiling. He looked her way and smiled knowingly, realizing that she found out that he had set Ron up with this mysterious visitor.

Suddenly, long legs in elegant heels stepped out of the fireplace. A classic little black dress hung immaculately on the beautiful lean frame, while shoulder length, dark hair and a single diamond drop pendant framed the face of…Pansy Parkinson.

Hermione once again lost the use of her voice. As the other assembled guests greeted Pansy with familiar hugs and kisses, Hermione stood stunned. This wasn't the mean little Slytherin that she remembered from school. This was a beautiful, elegant woman, and evidently, the Weasleys loved her.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Draco laughed, approaching her and taking her hand. "I guess it is pretty obvious, but Pansy has changed for the better. She and I both changed our belief structure after the war, and that cost us a lot of our Slytherin friends. She was always attractive, but her family was so ingrained in Pureblood ways of thinking, that she didn't have an outlet to get the proper clothes and realize how beautiful she really was. My mother took Pansy under her wing, unbeknownst to her parents, and introduced her to some of the finest salons in London. Couple that with mother's shopping prowess, and you have the woman you see before you."

"Wow," was all Hermione could muster. Pansy was beautiful, and Ron was currently kissing her very passionately in front of the assembled group. Perhaps a little too much for Hermione's taste, but it was very evident they were in love.

"Yeah," Draco responded. "The thing was; Pansy's parents still insisted that she marry a Pureblood. She didn't want anything to do with the Slytherins, so that is where I came in. She needed someone strong and stable that came from an old Wizarding family. Ron wanted a woman with a hot body and lots of money. It was a match made in heaven."

Hermione smiled as Pansy walked over and embraced her. It was warm, yet tentative. Hermione held Pansy at arm's length as she looked her up and down, and then said, "Pansy, I am so happy for the both of you."

Ron and Pansy let out a sigh of relief as both couples laughed, then made their way to the table for dinner.

(Break)

Hermione insisted on helping Molly with the dishes after dinner. She spent most of the meal telling stories of her time away from the Wizarding World, and catching up on gossip. Hermione had not felt hungry in the least, and enjoyed the conversation, so when Molly suggested that they talk while cleaning up, she happily agreed.

"I noticed that you didn't eat much tonight. Is everything alright?" Molly asked as she waved her wand, moving all of the plates into a stack beside the sink.

"I don't know what it is, but I wasn't hungry. The food was delicious, though. Thank you for inviting me. I'm sorry that it took so long…" Hermione began.

Molly turned to face Hermione and said, "I understand completely. After the war, everyone had things to deal with. It was their own cleaning up, if you will." Molly cast another charm that started the dishes moving through the soapy water. "Honestly, there are times that I feel like running away. When Fred died, a piece of me died that day. There are times that I would like to just…get away from it all. It has been years since he died," she paused choking up, and Hermione pulled her into a hug. "But I still miss him."

Hermione hugged Molly quietly for a moment then said, "Molly, if you ever want to get away, just come stay with me in London. We can go to a show, relax at a spa, there are a lot of ways to take your mind off of things."

"Thank you dear," Molly said, as she watched Hermione sit down quickly. "Hermione is everything alright?"

"I'm sure I'm fine, I just feel a little faint right now," Hermione said, looking rather pale.

"It is late, I think it is best for Draco to take you home to get some rest if you're feeling off."

"That is probably best," Hermione said, resting her head in her hands.

"What is best?" Draco asked as he entered the kitchen.

"Draco, Hermione isn't feeling well, and I think it is best that she go home and have a lie down," Molly said, looking at Hermione critically. "Let's get you two to the Floo."

"I'm fine, really," Hermione said, standing up under her own power. "I just feel a little woozy, but lying down sounds like a great idea. Thank you for dinner."

After saying their goodbyes, Hermione and Draco took the Floo back to her flat. Draco noticed that she was very pale, and wanted to get her into bed quickly. Unfortunately, the trip back to the flat took its toll, and as soon as they arrived, Hermione rushed to the bathroom to empty the meager contents of her stomach. Draco followed her and got a cold cloth to place on her forehead.

"Oh, I wonder if it was something I ate?" Hermione said as Draco rummaged through her medicine cabinet.

"We forgot to stock up on potions," Draco said resignedly. "You just have Muggle medicines in here, and none of this is going to make you feel better."

"Draco, I'll be fine."

"No, I want to get something to fix this right away," he said, pausing.

"Winky!" Draco called out, and the House-elf instantly appeared in the room with them.

"Yes, Master Draco?" Winky answered pleasantly.

"Hermione is sick; can you get some potions from the Manor that will help her feel better?"

"Really, Draco, I don't…" Hermione started.

"Master Draco," Winky said, taking the cold compress from Hermione and running it under the water and then returning it. "She is not sick, she is pregnant," Winky announced with a playful gleam in her eye.

Draco looked at Hermione, whose eyes were even wider than his. Hermione looked at Draco, who was now so pale that he was translucent. The sight of a scared Draco Malfoy seemed at once funny to Hermione, and she cracked a smile, which quickly caught on to Draco. In a moment, they were both laughing, perhaps from nerves, panic, or joy, but they embraced each other on that cold tile floor as they silently examined each other's faces for an answer.

"I should make some tea," Winky said as she left them alone and went into the kitchen.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

In which we end it.

A/N: I own nothing, and just write this for fun. Speaking of fun, writing this has been a blast and I appreciate all the feedback and reviews. Please don't ask me to continue, this story is complete. I like the happily ever after version.

"Draco, are you okay?" Hermione asked as they sat at the kitchen table, having tea. She was floored; never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that she would be pregnant after only a few days of knowing a man, and that man being Draco Malfoy. Although it was terrifying, it didn't seem so terrible. Draco was good to her, he came from what now seemed to be a good family, they would be able to live a comfortable lifestyle, and she could imagine them making a happy family together. That is, if he was willing. "Draco?" she repeated.

"Sorry, I was lost in thought," Draco said, smiling. He was also going through the same thoughts in his head; how unexpected this was, yet it had the potential to be wonderful. That is, if she was willing. "Yes, I'm fine, what about you?"

"A little stunned, but I feel fine. I was wondering what you were thinking?"

"I don't know. This is terrifying, and kind of amazing, and unexpected. I don't know, but I'm not as scared as I would have thought.

"You aren't scared?" Hermione asked, hoping that she heard something in his voice.

"Yeah, I mean, I'm crazy about you. This is weird, but we haven't shied away from weird yet have we?" Draco asked as Hermione let a smile escape. "I don't know why, but this feels kind of right."

Hermione put her cup down and gave Draco a long kiss on the mouth. "That was exactly the right thing to say," she said with a huge smile on her face.

"Oh, it was, was it? Do I win a prize?" Draco asked, snaking his arms around her waist.

"I could think of something, and I guess we don't need to use any Contraception Charms this time," Hermione whispered into Draco's ear as she let her lips brush against his skin.

"Yeah, it's not like that worked. Which is also kind of odd, it is usually reliable," Draco said as he snuggled into her neck.

Hermione pulled away, "You're right, it does usually work, I wonder what happened?"

Winky entered the room from the kitchen, holding a plate of biscuits. She had a very guilty smile on her face that Hermione noticed instantly. She nudged Draco who looked at the small House-elf curiously.

"Winky, do you know something?" Draco asked.

Winky looked up at the blond wizard and said, "There has been very strong magic at work between you and Miss Hermione. Winky believes that you two were meant to be together and there is nothing you can do about it. Look on the bright side," the House-elf said as she offered the pair a snack, "you can finally be happy, can't you?"

Hermione and Draco smiled as they looked at each other.

"Mother," Draco said, suddenly remembering.

"What about your mother?" Hermione asked, her smile receding as she imagined what Narcissa would think about having a half-blood grandchild. _Perfect. I get my hopes up for a moment and then reality hits_. Her eyes started to water, thinking about facing his parent's rejection due to her blood status.

"Hey, what's the matter?" Draco said as he knelt down on the floor in front of Hermione, the tea, biscuits and Winky forgotten for a moment. "My mother is going to be happy, very happy I think," he said with a smile." "So will my father. You know why? Because I am happy. So, no tears, and lets go get dressed and see my parents, I think we have some very interesting things to talk about."

"Are you sure about this?" Hermione asked in a small, hesitant voice. She was trying to be brave, but it wasn't working.

Just then Winky interrupted, "Mistress Narcissa will be very interested, and I think, pleased to hear your news. Plan for a celebration, not sadness; they will not care about the old ideas of blood status." Winky looked directly into Hermione's eyes, as if she was reading her thoughts.

Hermione looked at the House-elf and broke into a small smile. The wise old elf seemed to know what to say at just the right time. Was there something to being able to read people's minds that made a House-elf so efficient, and one step ahead of a wizard's needs? It made sense, and Hermione made a mental note to explore that further with Winky. For now, she knew that she had to gather her courage to face the Wizarding World with the news that she was pregnant, and that the father was Draco.

"Okay, let's get this over with. Should we go to the Manor today?"

"Winky, please go tell my parents that we are coming for lunch, and that we have some news for them," Draco said, smiling conspiratorially at the House-elf. "We will follow you in an hour or two."

"Yes, Master Draco," Winky responded as she snapped her fingers and Disapparated.

Draco stood, took Hermione into his arms, and said, "Now, weren't we just talking about the need for no contraception?"

Hermione pulled at the ties on the front of her robe, revealing only smooth skin underneath. "I thought we were rushing to your parent's house?" she responded with an alluring smile.

"Oh they can wait," Draco said as he pulled her robe back and kissed the nape of her neck, "but I can't."

Hermione squealed from Draco's nibbles, and ran into the bedroom, dropping her robe behind her as she propelled herself onto the bed. As she took Draco into an embrace, enjoying the feel of kisses up her neck, she said, "You have to leave me time to do my hair."

(Break)

Sunlight burst into the smoky study as Krasimir Krum pulled back the heavy drapes, illuminating the covered easel that sat in the middle of the room. Brushes, paints, solvents, and rags covered most surfaces that weren't already full of brandy snifters, highball glasses, and ashtrays. The hulking figure, clad in all white, removed the cover from the canvas and stared at the partially finished portrait.

"Please hurry," a small voice said from behind him.

"Believe me darling," said another, "you can't rush this if you want it done correctly."

Krasimir called out, "Quiet, both of you. I need to concentrate." He picked up his pigment-soaked wand and muttered unintelligible incantations as he made some precise movements over his palette.

"Ooh, fancy," the first voice said.

"Do you want this or not?" Krasimir asked tersely.

"Sorry, yes. I'll be quiet."

Krasimir picked up a brush and mixed paint until he created a smoky, steel blue, and then began to apply it to the painting.

(Break)

You could hear a pin drop. A pin dropping would have sounded as loud as one of Hagrid's rock cakes dropping onto a wooden floor. Finally, the awkward silence between the two couples was broken by Draco.

"I thought it would be good for us to get together today because we have some things that we need to discuss," Draco said, fidgeting with his spoon as he looked past his father and into the garden just off the veranda where they were having luncheon. "After what you told me yesterday, I think that you will find this quite interesting."

Lucius started to say something, but Narcissa put a calming, but firm hand on top of his thigh before he began. He looked at her, and the two exchanged a look that extinguished his fire instantly. Lucius forced a smile, aggravated that his son would disclose their family secrets after promising to keep this under wraps. "What is it you wish to discuss, son?"

"First, I would like for you to tell Hermione what you told me yesterday. It is inevitable that people will find out, and she can keep a secret. Will you tell her?" Draco asked.

"Draco, I thought we discussed…" Lucius started before Narcissa applied pressure to his upper thigh again. Her nails dug into his leg, just millimeters away from his most private parts. Lucius and Narcissa had been having non-stop sex since they found out that they were pregnant, terrifying the House-elves with their romps on the kitchen counter, sofa, and just before Draco arrived, this very table. Lucius was sore, and Narcissa had him, essentially, by the short hairs. She wanted him calm and quiet, so calm and quiet he would be.

"Hermione," Narcissa said, radiating calm and poise, "Lucius and I are going to have a baby."

Hermione's jaw dropped, she felt, almost to the tabletop. She snapped it shut, and tried to find her voice.

"Well, I don't find it that hard to believe," Narcissa said, smiling graciously.

"Mother," Draco said as he noticed his father getting irritated again, "the reason I asked you to tell Hermione is that we have a bit of an announcement as well."

"We're going to have a baby too," Hermione blurted out.

When Winky next entered the room, she saw Lucius and Narcissa both hugging Hermione and laughing. She placed the tray of cucumber sandwiches down unnoticed and watched the two couples laughing and embracing on the warm, sunny veranda.

"You must move into the Manor at once," Lucius declared. It would be wonderful to have children in the house again.

"Actually, I like Hermione's flat. It is coming along nicely," Draco said. "It is cozy, and once we're married, I think it will be a nice little place to start a family."

"Married?" Hermione asked, spinning around to face Draco.

"Hermione, I love you with my whole heart," Draco said, lowering himself to one knee. "I couldn't imagine my life without you, and I would like nothing more than for you to agree to marry me."

Hermione's eyes welled up with tears as she shot a glance at Narcissa, who was equally teary and smiling as she snaked her arm around her husband. She caught Hermione's look and gave an almost imperceptible nod

"Oh Draco, yes. Yes I will!"

Winky retreated to the kitchen where she hopped upon a worn wooden stool in a far corner. She would leave the Wizards to plan, to dream, to finally realize happiness. After all, that is why she agreed to serve the Malfoys, to make them happy. She snapped her fingers, and an old, battered package of Shipka, a Bulgarian cigarette, appeared in her hand. She pulled out the last of the smokes and it sparked to life. She took a long drag of the thick black smoke and blew a smoke ring that expertly drifted out the open window.

Almost two thousand miles away, Krasimir Krum noticed the small popping noise as a battered pack of cigarettes disappeared from the edge of his easel. "It is done," he stated aloud as he put the finishing touches on the painting.

"It's beautiful," the stately voice behind him said. "You do lovely work."

"It is nothing compared to your beauty, my love," Krasimir responded as he looked up into the eyes of the woman he had loved for decades.

Narcissa Malfoy stood before him in a white peignoir, framed in front of an emerald silk four-poster bed, presumably the one that she inhabited while a Slytherin at Hogwarts. She hadn't aged a day since he painted her all those years ago, and she clung seductively to the closest bedpost as she looked out over the newly finished masterpiece. "He looks so handsome, thank you Kras," she purred.

"I'll say," Hermione said, swooning as she looked down from her small frame next to Narcissa. "Hubba, Hubba."

"What nonsense are you saying now?" Krasimir asked.

"Never mind," Hermione said, shaking her head at the artist's consistent lack of understanding. "Is he dry yet?"

"Dry enough," Krasimir said with a sad smile. "Go ahead and give it a try."

The Hermione in the small painting, the secret third frame that Krasimir created, walked off stage left, weaving her way through the small woodland creatures that had gathered around her. She pushed her hair back and smiled warmly as she entered the new frame from stage right. The beautiful pastoral background from her painting merged seamlessly into the background of the larger portrait. As Krasimir and Narcissa watched Hermione enter the frame, her scale increased to match the new setting. She tiptoed through the grass until she met the frozen form of a very handsome and muscular Draco Malfoy, dressed in a tunic, tight trousers, and tall boots, like a seventeenth century pirate. He came alive when Hermione touched his shoulder. He looked around at his surroundings, which included a castle at the edge of a beautiful lake. As soon as he saw Hermione standing next to him, a smile crossed his face and he took her into his arms and dipped her dramatically. She squealed in delight at being so manhandled, and gave in to his smoldering kiss.

"The castle was a nice touch," Narcissa said.

"I wanted them to have somewhere private. She deserved it."

"You are a saint, you know that?"

"You, my dear, are an angel."

(Break)

The old paintings that Hermione inhabited were stored away, and Krasimir never told anyone about who lived in the painting of the castle by the lake. Some of his grandchildren ventured into his study after his death and thought that they could hear laughing coming from inside the castle and a light burning in an upper room. They spoke often to the sad, beautiful woman that hung on the wall of the study, but she would never tell them who she was, or why their grandfather had painted her.

Years later, two happy, young Malfoys received their Hogwarts letter. Cassiopeia Malfoy had already decided that she would follow her parent's footsteps and be a Slytherin. Corvus Malfoy couldn't decide between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and wanted the Sorting Hat to choose for him.

Winky continued to work for the Malfoys and split her time between the Manor and Bloomsbury Square where she enjoyed Apparating into Harrods's and trying to decipher the recipe for the dressing on the delicious takeaway Greek salad.

(End)


	16. Teaser for next story

The Missing Painting story is over, but I wanted to let all the people that were following it know that I have a new story on Fanfiction. It is called Witchunters of London and is a post-Hogwarts crime story.

Dudley and Harry work together to solve a mysterious murder that involves an underground group of Muggle men that are hunting for their very own witch.

I've just posted 3 chapters, and next up we meet secret club owner, Draco Malfoy. He's no hero in this story, so beware if you are a Dramione fan...it isn't that kind of thing at all.

s/9420988/1/Witchunters-of-London

Thanks for all the views and reviews for The Missing Painting.


End file.
